


We Are the Lucky Ones

by MickeyDarling



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- Call Centre, Anxiety Attacks, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Depression, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Implied/ Referenced Past Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, OCD, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Smoking, Stripper Crowley (Good Omens), Stripping, The Call Centre AU No One Asked For, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickeyDarling/pseuds/MickeyDarling
Summary: Crowley has been working at the same dead-end job at the call centre for the last 6 months. He would leave but he needs the money. But on a cold, late October day, the newest hires get their first day on the floor- among them is an Angel.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Dagon/Uriel (Good Omens), Ligur/Michael (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

“Thank you for calling Thompson Wireless, my name is Anthony, how can I help you today?”

“I WANNA KNOW WHY MY BLOODY BILL IS SO BLOODY HIGH!” The man screamed over the line into Crowley's headset.

“I'm so sorry to hear your bill was higher than expected this month, I can certainly look into that for you! I just need the phone number on the account and we can get started!” He was already getting a headache, but continued to maintain his obnoxiously pleasant customer service voice.

“WHY DO I NEED TO PROVIDE THE NUMBER AGAIN?! I ALREADY ENTERED IT IN THE BLOODY AUTOMATED SYSTEM!”

“I'm so sorry sir, but it doesn't appear to have pulled up your account. I just need the number one more time so I can take a look at your bill and get this sorted out for you!” He muted his mic and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hopefully, the man would find this whole process incredibly frustrating and just hang up so he could go back to working on his crossword puzzle. He would probably get in trouble for not fixing the problem, but at least his call time would be short.

“I DON'T KNOW WHY I EVEN BOTHERED CALLING! YOU'RE ALL JUST BLOODY USELESS!” The man screamed at him before hanging up.

Thankfully it was a relatively slow day, so he didn't have another call come through immediately. Crowley sighed again and stretched out his too-long legs to rest on the chair of the cubicle next to his. He could see the team leaders going around offering voluntary time off and he considered taking it for a brief moment before remembering rent was going to be due soon. 

He had been at this job for about six months now, since the restaurant he was working at as a line cook before had burnt down. He always said he would never work in a call center but desperate times meant taking the last job you wanted to get by. And it wouldn't be forever, he reminded himself. Just until he had enough saved up to set up his own flower shop. Hopefully this job would last until then. 

He closed his eyes, shifting his dark glasses to rest in his messy, short red hair. He leaned his head back, thinking over all the jobs he had done before this. He had exhausted almost every clothing store in the mall, the gaming shop, the record store, three different fast food chains, reception at the dingy motel, the sex shop and the head shop, custodian at the high- rise apartment building they didn't even pay him enough to live in, the Blockbuster before it shut down and the movie theater. Too many jobs to have gone through by 25. Some of them had closed, he couldn't be blamed for that. Some of them he left for what he thought were better opportunities. A lot though, he had been fired from, because of his personality. 

That was the worst part. Every job he went into thinking this was going to be it! He was going to be great at it, and be there as long as possible! But every single time, he would find ways in which things could be done differently, or even better. And every single time he was told he was being difficult and that this was how things would always be! Sometimes, he just let a little too much of his personality shine through, and they would be repelled by him. Telling him he was too intense and weird and didn't fit in.

At least at the call center he was left alone. He worked alone, took his breaks alone and went home alone. 

Alone.  
Always alone.

At least this way he couldn't continue disappointing people. 

He was so lost in his thoughts, he only just started to pick up the sound of voices coming from his right.

“Anthony? Hello! You know you're not supposed to have your feet on the chairs!” said a pleasant but annoyed voice.

He opened his eyes to see his team leader Cheryl looking at him expectantly.

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” He moved his feet down, fully intending on putting them back up after she left. But then she turned around and motioned to someone to go and sit in the seat.

“There you go, ah, sorry, A-” she stalled, trying to get the name right as the person walked around her to set his messenger bag on the desk.

“That's quite alright, dear. The name is quite a mouthful! You can just call me Zira, if that helps.” said the man in an incredibly endearing voice. 

Crowley was in shock. 

The man who sat down was dressed in a light blue button down shirt, a beige cardigan and khaki pants. He had the lightest blonde hair he had ever seen, it was almost white and in the fluffiest little curls. But those eyes... He had never seen anything like them before! He couldn't decide if they were blue or green or hazel! Maybe it was the fluorescent lights, but Crowley knew he needed to see them in the sun.

He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was staring while this new guy and Cheryl chatted for a moment, before she wandered off and left him to it.

He quickly turned away and grabbed his crossword, trying to look like he wasn't just staring. 

But the new guy turned to him while he started putting his headphones on, getting ready for the start of his first shift on the floor.

“Hello there! Looks like we'll be sharing this little space together for a while! My name is Aziraphale, pleasure to meet you!” He said, sticking out his hand, intending for Crowley to shake it.

“Ngk, yeah. Ugh, hi. I'm Crowley.” He said, trying - and failing - to sound non-chalant while shaking Aziraphale's hand. And he had the softest hands, Crowley couldn't help but notice.

“Oh! I thought Cheryl said your name was Anthony?” He seemed a bit puzzled.

“I mean, yeah, that's my first name, but I prefer to go by Crowley. Only the boss and customers call me Anthony.” He hoped that made sense. He hated hearing his first name, even if he did choose it. He was starting to wonder if regular people could go by a mononym, like Madonna, or Cher or Sting...

“Ah yes, well that sounds perfectly reasonable!” Aziraphale was so chipper, it was starting to rub off a little on Crowley. A small smile appearing on his face without his permission. “And if you like, feel free to call me Zira. Most people do.” 

“Nah, I like Aziraphale. It's different.” And Crowley was absolutely telling the truth. 

He went to ask what a seemingly educated, beautiful man was doing working in a call center, when thankfully, a call came in and he had to get back to work.

The next two hours went by easily enough. The stream of calls picking up slightly. Occasionally, Aziraphale would have a question about how to check something, or change a plan and Crowley would help him out as much as he could. Enjoying the ability to lean over him to show him something in the system, and getting a whiff of lavender and cedar wood and something else he couldn't quite place, but seemed familiar for some reason. He had to keep fighting the urge to place his hand in those tight white curls to see if they felt as soft as they looked. But then it was his lunch break and he was able to slip away quietly while Aziraphale was on a call.

He sat in the cafeteria, alone, like always, barely tasting the lactose-free yogurt and banana he packed himself for lunch. He knew he should have brought more to eat, but with funds as tight as they were, he didn't have a ton of options. 

When he was done eating, he stepped outside into what was affectionately known as “the Smoker's Pit”. A small fenced in area with a couple picnic tables right next to the dumpsters. Crowley thought it was rather fitting.

He sat on top of one of the picnic tables, away from everyone else chatting and pulled his black jacket a little tighter around him. He knew it was stupid to wear ripped jeans this late in October, but he was more concerned with looking cool than being comfortable. Like the idiot he was. 

He lit his cigarette and put the pack and lighter back in his pocket, instead pulling out his phone and browsing Pinterest for ideas for his dream home. A home he could never afford, but sometimes it was nice to fantasize and not think about the dreary call center you were currently stuck in.

He was pulled out of his mindless scrolling by a polite voice asking him a question.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if I could borrow your light, please?” Aziraphale was standing right in front of him, asking for a lighter. 

“What?” He was so confused, why would someone who looks like Aziraphale be asking for a lighter? He must have heard him wrong.

“Well, it's just that I have limited time on my break and I seem to have forgotten my lighter in my bag, and I don't exactly have time to go back and get it and come all the way back out here and have a smoke before I'm due back at my desk.” He was tugging on the hem of his cardigan, obviously nervous for some reason, and Crowley thought he had never looked cuter.

“Ugh, yeah, sorry, here.” Crowley dug the zippo out of his pocket and held it up so he could light Aziraphale's smoke. “I didn't think you smoked.” He added, unhelpfully.

Aziraphale sat next to Crowley on the picnic table, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “I have been meaning to quit, for a while now, but I'm sure you know how it is.”

“Yeah, I really do. Not even sure why I started smoking in the first place anymore.” Crowley looks ahead, trying not to think about how close they're sitting. He remembers his unasked question from earlier. “So you just finished training? What brings you to Hell?” He chuckles.

“I'm sure it's not that bad!” Aziraphale laughed and bumped his shoulder with his own. “Cheryl seemed quite lovely!”

“Yeah, until your call times are too long, or you're not upselling enough, or you looked grouchy that day...” Crowley remembered the day she came over and told him he needed to smile more since customers and hear it over the phone. Whatever that meant!

“Thankfully it's only for eight hours, five days a week! I'm sure we'll survive!” He was far too optimistic. Crowley couldn't bear to think about how heartbreaking it will be to watch his soul get crushed under the weight of entitled twats calling in and forgetting there are human beings on the other end of the line. That smile though... It was a dreary overcast day, but Crowley could have sworn he saw sunshine in that smile.

“I hope you're right.” Crowley sighed and looked down at the butt left between his fingers. He stubbed it out and got up, tossing it in one of the many receptacles specifically for that reason. “I gotta head back, but I guess I'll see ya there?”

“Quite right! Mind how you go!” Aziraphale nodded to him with a smile.

Crowley tried his best at a smirk, and raised two fingers in a mock salute before heading back to his grey and beige cubicle. He sat down heavily in his shitty rolling chair with the fraying seat and put his headset back on, logging back in to take more calls. Unfortunately, since they had sent so many people home, it really picked up and he was unable to have any more conversation with Aziraphale the rest of the day before he had to clock out. He gathered up his things, slipping on his headphones and shooting Aziraphale a nod as he left. 

As soon as he was out the door, he turned his music on and lit another smoke. The bus stop was crowded with students since the closest bus stop happened to be right outside of a university, so he stood off to the side, not wanting to be inconsiderate while he finished his smoke. Unfortunately, that meant he was the last to get on when the bus got there and left standing room only. So he stood, watching all the students behind his dark glasses, knowing they couldn't see his eyes. 

He saws friends goofing around, a few couples sitting close and holding hands, people exchanging notes from todays lectures... And he was reminded once again how lonely he was. Standing on the bus alone, to head to his dank, basement studio apartment alone, where he'd have dinner alone, watch a movie alone, fall asleep alone and wake up alone just to do it all over again. He had kept telling himself it was fine. Trying to convince himself he didn't need friends, or a partner. No matter what, every time he did get close to someone, it was just like with his jobs. He was too intense, too much, but this time, he was also too broken. Too much baggage and damage to even handle having a friend. So he stopped trying. Resigned to live a life of solitude if it meant he'd stop getting hurt. 

So why did he talk to Aziraphale? Why didn't he push him away just like he did with everyone else? He could have been his usual standoff-ish self and told him he didn't want to talk. He could have refused to light his cigarette! So why didn't he? 

He let himself hope again, and that was dangerous. He'd been doing so well, so caught up in his little bubble and daily monotony, he didn't have time to hope. But there it was, in a blue button down and beige cardigan, gnawing away at him as the bus finally got to his stop after an excruciating 45 minute ride. 

And because it was exactly his kind of luck, the sky decided to take that moment to open up and drench him with cold October rain. 

He cursed and started his walk home, strong winds whipping at his face and threating to take his sunglasses with it. But he trudged along, shoes now completely soaked through and squelching with every step. He eventually got to his door, waterlogged and tired, immediately taking everything off the second he was through the door. He struggled for bit with his far too tight black, ripped jeans, having become impossibly tighter while wet. He left it all in a soggy pile and ran shivering to the tiny shower hoping to warm up a little before putting on his coziest clothes, making himself a tea (maybe with a bit of whisky), toast with butter and jam, and sitting down in bed - since there was no room for a couch in the tiny flat - to watch a movie before passing out for the night. 

All he could dream of were golden-haired Angels.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's POV!
> 
> CW: Recreational drug use

Aziraphale managed the way through the rest of his shift without Crowley's help, but he couldn't stop wishing he was still there. Leaning over him, pointing at things on the screen, giving him a close look at the snake tattoo on his face by his right ear. He kept thinking about it on the walk to his car- an old, beat up, dark blue Ford Focus that had certainly seen better days. It got him from place to place alright though, and that was what mattered.

He drove home in the rain, thinking about the way Crowley had walked away after his smoke on the patio. He was starting to wonder if he had any bones in his hips at all based on the way they swung back and forth as he walked, like he hadn't a care in the world! He was certainly intriguing!

He thought about what his eyes might look like behind the sunglasses and why he was able to wear them indoors at work.

He wondered whether he might have any more tattoos. He thought he saw something black peeking out from the stretched neckline of his black henley, but he couldn't be certain.

He stopped to pick up pad thai on the way home, still thinking about Crowley. He barely registered that he had gotten all the way home and was currently pulling into his parking spot behind the bookshop. He shook his head and tried to remind himself that it was silly to pine over someone he had only just met and barely knew. He ran up the stairs to his shared flat above the shop, trying not to soak the pad thai before he had a chance to really enjoy it.

As soon as he was through the door, his roommate Anathema was on him, like a piranha smelling fresh blood in the water. Her long dark hair pulled up into a messy bun, bouncing as she bounded towards him.

“So! How was your first day on the phones? And who's the guy?” She was always so direct, and always seemed to know exactly what was going on before he had a chance to say anything. She would say it's because she's a descendent of witches. Aziraphale figured she was just very perceptive.

“Hello Anathema, how was your day? Mine was just tickety-boo thank you! I brought dinner, thought you might be hungry.” He said, voice dripping with sarcasm and choosing to ignore her sudden line of questioning while setting the food down on the coffee table in front of the couch. He hoped it was enough of a deflection to get her to drop it. He wasn't ready to talk about Crowley with her when he didn't even know if there was anything to talk about!

“Thanks!” She sat down on the floor in front of the couch, legs crossed, as she started pulling the containers out of Aziraphale's reusable, tartan tote. “You got mine vegetarian, right?”

“Of course, my dear! How could I forget!” He sat down next to her on the floor, grabbing his container specifically marked chicken. He was just about to grab the remote for the television, thinking he had distracted her, when she spoke again, crushing his hopes.

“So, again, who's the guy?”

“Why do you think there's a guy?”

“Because you seemed way too happy when you came through that door! Way too happy for someone who just finished their first shift on the phones, dealing with inconsiderate assholes for 8 hours! And also, because I just knew!” She said around a mouth full of noodles, and winked at him.

Aziraphale stuffed his mouth full of pad thai to hopefully buy him some time as he tried to figure out an answer. He could lie, and tell her he just had a good day, but she would figure it out eventually. He could just tell her and get it over with, but again, what was there to say? 'Oh yeah, lovely bloke at work, barely know him, but I can't get him out of my head for some dumb reason I can't figure out!'

In the end, he decided on being honest. Maybe it would help to get it out of his system to talk to her about it.

“Fine!” He sighed, but kept going, “The guy is the guy sitting next to me. I guess we share a cubicle or whatever. He was incredibly helpful when I had questions about the system and he lit my smoke for me on break. Nothing terribly exciting or interesting.” A half truth was still the truth, only, less than.

“Okay, but what does he look like? Is he some boring, middle-aged man with a picture of his wife and kids on his desk beside the computer? Only wanting to talk about the game last night and show you pictures of the deck he's trying to build in his backyard? Did he talk about golf?!” She knew that wasn't the case, but she also knew he would correct her.

“I'll have you know he was actually quite stylish and around our age!”

“And...?”

He huffed out a sigh, and realized there was no getting out of this.

“And he's quite tall, and trim. He wears sunglasses indoors, he's a ginger, I think, could be dyed, and he has a face tattoo! And his fingernails were painted black!” Aziraphale rambled on quickly, trying to get it all out before Anathema could butt it. “He has a nose ring, and was wearing the tightest pants I have ever seen on a person! If it weren't for all the rips I would have sworn they were painted on!”

“Sounds like exactly your type!”

“In what way?”

“He probably likes the same kind of music at the very least!”

“That's rather presumptuous of you. Just because he has patches and pins on his jacket doesn't mean he'll be into the kind of music I enjoy. Looks can be very deceiving! He could prefer listening to the Chainsmokers for all we know!” Aziraphale was exhausted. He wasn't even ready to have this conversation to begin with and now he has to try and get Anathema to back down from trying to set him up with his new co- worker.

“And that would just be the worst!” She laughed, as she got up and grabbed their now empty containers to take them to the garbage in the kitchen. “Do you want a glass of wine?” She called over her shoulder.

“Yes, thank you, it is the least you could do after getting me into that conversation!” He called back to her, “Preferably red!”

Anathema returned a moment later with two glasses of red wine, and they both moved to sit on the old, threadbare couch.

“Sorry, I just want to see you happy! After things didn't work out with Jeremy-”

“I know, dear. And one day, I'm sure I'll meet someone wonderful, but there's no point rushing into things with someone I have to work with every day. Not to mention the fact he may not even be into men!” He sank into the cushions, taking a long sip of his wine, considering going out for a smoke, if only to get out of this conversation.

“Fair enough! I rolled a joint before you got home, wanna help me smoke it? I think the rain stopped...” He was starting to think she might actually be a witch, with the way she could read his mind. She stood up and opened the drawer on the side table, pulling out a little tin with a perfectly rolled joint in it, complete with makeshift filter.

“Oh yes! That sounds lovely!”

They both grabbed their coats, Aziraphale checking to make sure he had his smokes, and they stepped out onto the covered balcony off the living room. They sat down in their respective chairs; Anathema sparking the joint and Aziraphale lighting his cigarette. Glasses of wine set on the table between them, on either side of the ashtray.

It wasn't like they had consciously decided whose chair was whose, it just worked out that they always sat in the same spots and Aziraphale appreciated the consistency

Despite her energy and abruptness, Aziraphale enjoyed living with Anathema. He had met her in the university library and they instantly connected. Aziraphale introduced her to his friends and she welcomed in with open arms, quickly just becoming another member of their motley crew. She was able to get a part- time job in the bookshop downstairs as well. Madame Tracy had been delighted to find out she dabbled in the occult and immediately offered her a job doing tarot readings. She was from America, only in the U.K. for school, but by the time graduation rolled around she had found that she didn't want to go back. Aziraphale suspected it might have something to do with her budding relationship with his good friend Newt. So when she needed a place after leaving the dorms it made sense to invite her to live with him. He couldn't continue to afford the rent on his own, despite Madame Tracy not charging him anywhere near what it was worth. Anathema was tidy, and quiet and it was nice to have someone to come home to at the end of the day. Sometimes Newt would be there as well, but Anathema would always let him know in advance so he could prepare himself for the extra company.

Aziraphale loved his friends dearly, and most of them he had known since secondary school; they were a very tight-knit group. But at the end of the day, he was still an introvert. He preferred to stay in most of the time, listening to music and reading a good book. Occasionally he would watch a movie or play a video game, but he much preferred to read. He enjoyed getting caught up in stories of fantasy! Heros and villains, dragons and princesses, witches and wizards! It was a world he could escape to that he could envision any way he chose; getting lost in a world that could never exist.

They sat in comfortable silence, passing the joint between them, watching the new bout of rain fall, until it was just a little roach and their wine glasses were empty.

Anathema turned to him, stubbing out the roach. It felt like her deep brown eyes were peering directly into his soul.

“The job is alright though?” She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, looking as though she was maybe upset at the thought of Aziraphale working such an awful job.

“It's alright for now, my dear.” He sighed, getting out of his chair and grabbing the wine glasses. Anathema followed as he went back inside to place them on the kitchen counter. “I won't be working there forever. Plus! If I can upsell enough there are little bonuses as well! That would go along way towards getting the money together to buy the shop!”

“Madame Tracy's offer still stands, y'know. I don't know why you don't take her up on it!” Anathema had been bugging him for weeks about it, ever since Madame Tracy made the offer to sell it to him for literal peanuts. Like, actual peanuts! He had been so taken aback he almost thought she had been joking! But she made it quite clear the peanuts were handy for feeding the squirrels and she could always use more any time. And besides! She was getting up there in years and was looking forward to retirement.

He had honestly thought about it, but Madame Tracy was already too kind to him and he didn't want to take advantage of that kindness. She kept saying she saw something in him. That she knew the shop would be in good hands with him. Regardless, Aziraphale was raised to believe that anything was only worth something if you had earned it. So he was determined to give her something, even if it may not be the total worth of the shop. She definitely deserved it. After a fair bit of negotiating they finally settled on a price they both deemed fair and Aziraphale was willing to do whatever it took to get the money together.

“It won't be long now! I did the math and if I stick to the monthly budget I worked out, and based on my hourly wage, no bonuses, I should have the money in about a year. I think I can handle a call center for a year.” He chuckled softly. “Anyways, I am knackered! I'll see you in the morning?”

“I'm not due in the shop until late afternoon so if you want I can make pancakes in the morning!” She said brightly, pulling Aziraphale into a hug.

“That sounds lovely! Sleep well, dear, and dream of whatever you like best.” He gave her a gentle squeeze back and headed down the hall to his room.

He opened the door and was instantly comforted by the mismatched, free furniture he had been given over the years, never having been able to purchase anything brand new. He loved the old, cozy blankets he had picked up at different thrift shops. Always admiring that they all had little secrets he would never learn, having been lost to history. Most; he presumed were hand-made, based on the quality, and that made they seem even more precious. Had they been gifts for someone? How did they end up in the thrift shop? He would never know, mystery woven through every loose thread.

He changed out of his clothes for the day, and slipped on an old band t- shirt he saved specifically to wear as sleep clothes. He unfortunately had worn it too many times and over the years it had become too faded and ripped to wear on a day to day basis. He had gotten it the first time he had seen his favourite band live, and he just couldn't bare to part with it. It was extra soft after years of wear and tear, and was now perfect for sleeping in.

Aziraphale snuggled into the many blankets he had  
on his bed, in his boxers and t-shirt, and grabbed the book he had sitting on the nightstand, intending to read until he fell asleep.

Now that he didn't have Anathema or dinner as a distraction, though, his mind drifted back to the mysterious Crowley.

Sure, he was beautiful and mysterious and Aziraphale had always had a soft spot for redheads, but again. He didn't know him. He was wrapped up in an idea of what he might be and that was certainly not healthy. He decided at the very least, it wouldn't hurt to have a friend at work, and if that friendship blossomed into something else, well, that would be very nice indeed. For now, though, he needed to get some rest.

No matter how hard he tried not to think about Crowley as he slowly drifted off to sleep, that night he dreamed of a charming, red and black snake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a rough day, thankfully his Angel is there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are Crowley's inner monologue.
> 
> CW: Mentions of stripping and sex work

Crowley awoke at exactly 6am to Kick Out the Jams by the Mc5 blasting from his phone. He struggled with his lanky limbs, twisting about in the sheets looking for it, cursing himself for choosing one of his favourite songs to be the thing that pulls him out of sleep. At least when he was asleep he didn't have to worry about anything else. He could exist in a world of dreams where none of his real world problems could bother him. He couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about, but he knew it was pleasant, which made it that much harder to get up and get ready for work.   
  
He grabbed the old, plastic shopping bag he kept his skincare in off the top of his dresser and shuffled off to the tiny bathroom. It was so small there wasn't any room for storage and he had barely enough room on the sink for his toothbrush, toothpaste and floss.   
  
Once he was done relieving himself, he set the bag onto the toilet lid and got to work. He took the time to brush and floss his teeth- he always took good care of them after having had braces as a child- and made sure to be thorough, remembering he had forgotten to do it the night before.   
  
When he was finished, he went to grab his razor out of the bag and stopped.   
  
It was Friday.   
  
Crowley was dancing tonight.   
  
On the one hand, he didn't have to work at the call center for the next two days, as he was able to get on the Monday to Friday day shift on the last shift bid. On the other hand, Fridays were exhausting. He would work 8- 5 at the call center, get home around and 6:15, have just enough time to eat, shave and get together his supplies for the night, then run to catch the bus to be at the club by 8 so he had enough time to get ready and be on stage by 9. He would have 3 shows to do before he'd be done around 1am, using a little from his tips to take a cab home and be asleep by 3am. It wasn't ideal, but he'd be able to sleep in on Saturday before his scheduled online shows started at 4pm.   
  
He was lucky to find Eden in the first place, it being one of the few clubs in the city that catered specifically to the LGBTQ+ crowd. He'd been doing it just over a year and he was happy to have a job doing something he enjoyed while feeling safe and protected. On a good night, he could make almost as much as he made in a week at the call center. That made it worth it, despite the occasional rude or aggressive customer. And he always knew he could count on the bouncers, Hastur and Sandalphon to take care of the situation if it came to that.   
  
So Crowley skipped shaving that morning, knowing he would have to do it again later anyway and continued with his 5 step skin care routine. It was one of the few things he let himself indulge in as he saved money. He decided on a comfortable outfit for the day, thinking about what he would be wearing later and opted for an old t- shirt, black hoodie, and another pair tight black jeans- this time with no rips, remembering how cold he had been the day before. He pulled on his black boots, battle jacket and bag. He looked around the room, standing at the door ready to leave, feeling like he was forgetting something. Nothing came to mind immediately and after grabbing his phone to plug his headphones in, he noticed he was going to be late to catch the bus and he rushed out the door.   
  
There were a few people already waiting at the stop as the bus pulled up. He ran to the doors and just managed to make it on, standing room only again, the bus full of students. The energy was different in the morning though. Everyone groggy with sleep and/ or hung over from too much fun the night before, nursing expensive coffees and staying quiet while they scrolled aimlessly on their phones. Crowley grabbed one of the cold rubber handles and stood in the middle of the bus, feeling oddly exposed. That was strange... Today wasn't different from any other day... Why would he be feeling so weird?   
  
Then he noticed the headache starting to creep in behind his eyes, starting as a dull ache he knew would become a blinding pain before the end of his shift. His free hand flew to his face to confirm what he already knew- he left his sunglasses at home. He bent his head down and closed his eyes. He knew without looking, those who had seen him when he got on had been staring. He decided to just keep his eyes closed until his stop was announced, hoping it would keep the pain at bay for just a little longer.   
  
When he finally had to open his eyes again and step out into the grey, gloomy day he hissed at the pain starting back up. It didn't matter if the sun was out in full force or not, without his prescription glasses, this day was going to be a nightmare. He lit up a smoke on his walk to the call center, hoping it would bring him some sense of normalcy. He missed the one he would normally have walking to his stop and was glad for the first time the stop wasn't closer to work.   
  
Once he got inside, things weren't any better with the fluorescent bulbs searing his eyes with what felt like hell fire. He often compared this place to hell, and today he thought, he couldn't be more correct. He wandered into the cafeteria where he could make himself a coffee, leaving some change in the cup next to the coffee pot. It worked on a trust and pay what you can system, unlike the rest of the cafeteria food Crowley believed should be free.   
  
When he finally got to his desk he rummaged around in his bag, hoping to find something to take for his headache. He was sure he left a bottle of painkillers in there, but unfortunately, none were found. As much as he knew he couldn't afford it, he was considering just going home sick. He still had all of his sick days left for the year, since he could never bring himself to call in sick, even if he had the flu. The money was more important. Instead, he found himself settling in and preparing for a particularly shitty day.  
  
He managed the first two hours alright. Opting to only open his eyes when he absolutely had to. Keeping them closed as much as possible. It was easier than expected, with most people calling with minor questions about plans and billing, which was information he had mostly memorized by now. During a lull in the calls, he was leaning back, feet propped up on the chair beside him, eyes closed, rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to feel normal when he felt someone tentatively tap his shin.   
  
“Good morning, Crowley! I hope I didn't bother you, but I do need the chair so I can get started.” He heard the posh, polite voice say and he assumed it was attached to the hand that touched him.   
  
_Aziraphale!_   
  
Keeping his eyes closed, he removed his feet from the chair and stretched his legs out underneath the shared desk instead. “Uh, yeah, sure, sorry.” Crowley wanted to look at him. To see what Aziraphale would be wearing today. Would he still be wearing creams and tans and light blues? Was his hair as white and fluffy as Crowley remembered? What colour were his eyes today? Were they still that odd concoction of colours that reminded him of a stormy sea? Or would they have settled on one colour today? He needed to know, but the promise of a fresh new wave of pain was too much to handle at the moment, so he continued to keep his eyes closed. He could still feel Aziraphale watching him though.   
  
“Are you alright, dear boy? You don't seem well at all...” He could hear the concern in his voice, and for some reason he felt bad that he had made him worry. Instead of setting his mind at ease, though, Crowley settled on focusing on not saying anything. Maybe if he ignored Aziraphale he'd drop it and let it go. “Oh, I'm so sorry! I should have asked for your pronouns instead of just assuming! Mine are he/ him if you were wondering.”   
  
Aziraphale sounded as if he was genuinely remorseful for assuming his gender, even though Crowley thought it should be fairly obvious. He wasn't one to get hung up on gender roles or pronouns for himself. He figured however anyone wanted to refer to him was fine. Most people at the club referred to him using non-gendered or female pronouns anyways. He continued to stay silent. Hoping his continued lack of effort in the conversation would make Aziraphale leave him alone.   
  
He had to try to find a way to push this beautiful man away, before either of them could get hurt.   
  
Instead, he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder and Aziraphale pressing something into his right hand. It felt like 2 pills. “I'm going to assume you have an awful headache since you haven't opened your eyes since I've been here, and likely for a while before that. I happen to always keep some painkillers on me at all times. Bad shoulder, you see. Would you like me to grab your coffee for you so you don't hand to blindly reach for it? It would be a shame to dump it all over the keyboard. Look at me, rambling away when that's probably the last thing you need! Here-” Suddenly, Aziraphale was reaching over him to grab his coffee to place in his other hand, the scent of lavender and cedar wood and that odd familiar scent washing over him. It was comforting. But as quickly as it had come, it was gone again and he was holding his coffee in his left hand and the two pills in the other.   
  
He heard Aziraphale sitting down in his chair and picking up a call. Crowley opened his eyes briefly and stared down at the two little pills. He couldn't understand why anyone would be this nice to him for no reason, but he also desperately needed to take something for the headache that was threatening to turn into a migraine, which he could not afford today. He swallowed the pills with his coffee just as another call came through.   
  
By lunch Crowley was starting to feel a little better, not great, but he felt he could keep his eyes open long enough to eat and have a smoke. When he got to the cafeteria though, he realized he had forgotten to pack a lunch.   
  
_Wonderful. Another day of coffee and cigarettes for lunch._   
  
He ended up just heading right out to the same picnic table he sat at the day before with a fresh cup of coffee, using all the change he had left. He pulled his knees up to his chest so he could lean on them while he smoked, keeping his eyes closed and back to everyone else.   
  
Eventually he felt the weight of the picnic bench shift a little to his right. Someone was sitting next to him. No one did that, except for...  
  
“I hope it's alright if I join you. I don't really know anyone else here. Don't worry though, I brought my own lighter today and I can stay quiet if you prefer.” Aziraphale was speaking so softly Crowley almost didn't hear him. Crowley was confused. Why does he care so much?   
  
Before he knew what he was doing, Crowley was turning to look directly at Aziraphale, forgetting the headache for a moment.   
  
“S'alright... You're voice is nice...”   
  
_Seriously?! Why would you say that?! Who cares if it's true! It's weird! Who says that to someone who was practically a stranger!_   
  
“Oh, well, that's very kind of you to say...” Crowley could swear he saw a blush creep across the fair skin of Aziraphale's cheek, his head bent, staring at his shoes. “I just hope I'm not being a nuisance...” He raised his head to look at him and Crowley noticed his eyes go wide.   
  
_Fuck! You're not wearing your sunglasses! Look away before he starts asking questions!_   
  
But he couldn't. Not after finally seeing Aziraphale's eyes in daylight, without tinted glass between them. They were stunning! So many colours all swirling in perfect harmony, there was no way they could be real! But there they were, looking back him, wide and curious.   
  
_Well, there it is. He's going to see you for the demon you are and never want to speak to you again.  
  
Why didn't you just do this right from the start?   
  
Because you didn't really want him to leave you alone..._   
  
Before Aziraphale could reject him, Crowley decided his lunch break was over and quickly got up to head back to their shared desk without another word. He was hoping he would get another call that would last a while so he wouldn't have to talk to Aziraphale when he got back from his break. But it was another slow day, team leads wandering around looking for people to take voluntary time off again. Cheryl was avoiding his cubicle since he didn't normally take it when offered. She learned after a while it wasn't worth bothering him. Instead, Crowley got her attention and motioned her over just as Aziraphale was getting back.   
  
“Oh! Anthony! Did you want to take the voluntary time off today? We're still looking to send some more people home!” She said, far too cheerfully and loudly for Crowley's liking. It was all very forced, he could tell she was getting uncomfortable, seeing him without his glasses.   
  
“Uh, yeah, please. Can I leave now?”   
  
“Sure thing! I just need you to sign right here saying you agreed to go home early and we're all set!” She pointed to the clipboard in her hand with the pen she then offered to him. He signed quickly beside his name and turned around to disconnect from the phones.   
  
“Actually, Cheryl, I think I'll go as well.”   
  
Crowley whipped around to see Aziraphale grabbing the offered pen to sign beside his own name. “Sure thing! Just sign here!”   
  
He turned back around to finish getting all his stuff together, trying not to think that Aziraphale was leaving at the same time as him for any specific reason.   
  
_Maybe he's got plans? It's a Friday, maybe he wants to get started-_   
  
Before Crowley had a chance to actually finish that thought, he felt Aziraphale's hand on his shoulder again. The touch warm and comforting.   
  
“If it's alright with you, I'd like to offer you a ride home. I don't mean to assume anything again, but I gather you take the bus, and with you not feeling well, I'd feel much more at ease knowing you got home safely.” His voice was gentle, his touch gentle, it was almost too much. He couldn't remember the last time someone was this kind to him without having ulterior motives. Why did he assume Aziraphale was any different? For some reason, he felt like he could just trust this man. That was a terrifying thought in and of itself.   
  
Instead of shrugging him off and heading to the bus stop, he found himself nodding. Next thing he knew, he was being led out of the building. Aziraphale guiding him and encouraging him to keep his eyes closed until they got to the car. He held the door open for him and passed him his seat belt so he didn't have to go groping for it. Once Aziraphale was seated in the drivers seat, Crowley could hear him digging around in the center console.   
  
“Ah! Here they are! I knew I kept a pair of sunglasses in here, though I rarely use them. I imagine your regular ones are prescription but I imagine these will help a little.” He nudged Crowley's arm with the sunglasses, which he took and shoved on his face as fast as possible. He looked over at Aziraphale, his kind eyes watching him. Crowley was suddenly overwhelmed. Was this man-shaped being really an Angel? How else could he explain it!   
  
“Ngk, thanks. Helps.” Why were forming complete sentences beyond him today? Maybe that's why Aziraphale was being so nice to him. Maybe he thought he was an idiot who couldn't even take care of himself. I mean, he wouldn't exactly be wrong, would he?   
  
“You're very welcome.” He started up the car and pulled up the maps app on his phone. “Would you mind putting your address in so I can get you home? That way you can rest your eyes more on the way.”   
  
“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Crowley took the phone and entered his address, hoping Aziraphale wouldn't notice what an awful neighbourhood he lived in. “Thanks, for the ride. You were right, by the way, I do usually bus.”   
  
“After I saw you leave yesterday with your headphones on, I figured that must be the case. Most people don't wear headphones in their cars.” Aziraphale chuckled at that, “At least the ones who have some modicum of common sense!”   
  
“And you used the correct pronouns, by the way. I mean, I don't really care, whatever ones you want to use are cool. I don't really have a preference.” Crowley's mouth blurted out, before his brain could catch up with it.   
  
“Ah, yes! I almost forgot all about that! Thank you for letting me know, Crowley. I'll keep that in mind.” He went to turn on some music, and stopped, glancing at Crowley. “What kind of music do you like? I don't want to put on anything too loud...”   
  
“Anythings fine. M'not picky, really.” And he did mean that. His Spotify playlist was ridiculous.   
  
“It's just that... Well... Alright...” Aziraphale was stammering and he couldn't understand why this seemingly confident person was suddenly nervous about sharing music preferences with him. As he was about to open his mouth to let him know anything he played would truly be okay, the beginnings of a metal song he had never heard before began to play quietly through the after market stereo in the car.   
  
“You're a metal head!” He said, excitedly, the pain behind his eyes long forgotten, now that he knew what was behind that sweet, mild mannered persona.   
  
“If you must put it like that, yes, I suppose.” He huffed.  
  
“Wouldn't have figured that!”   
  
“Why not?” Aziraphale almost seemed annoyed, but Crowley could sense the amusement there as well.   
  
“You're so mild mannered and polite! Would never have expected it! Thought you'd listen to classical music or somethin'.”   
  
“Yes, well, I do quite enjoy orchestral music but there really isn't that much being written these days. I love how complex and beautiful it is and the only other genre I've found that even remotely compares is metal. My favourite subgenre being melodic death metal. And besides, I don't think how I carry myself should have any bearing on what kind of music I should enjoy. You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover.” Aziraphale said all this like it made the most sense in the world, eyes twinkling, and Crowley could honestly not see any holes in his theory.   
  
“So what are we listening to now, then?” It was quickly becoming one of Crowley's new favourite songs.  
  
“Dawn of a New Day by In Flames.”   
  
“Never heard of 'em. What's their deal?”   
  
Aziraphale talked about In Flames for the rest of the drive. He talked about where they're from, all their lineup changes, how their sound has evolved and how many times he's been able to see them live. Crowley could have spent the rest of the day just listening to him talk. Wouldn't matter what about, as long as he was passionate about it. His already gorgeous eyes lighting up and his hands gesturing wildly when not immediately needed on the steering wheel. It was just so endearing!   
  
When the car stopped outside his flat, he realized just how much he didn't want to get out. As much as he enjoyed dancing and needed the money, he wanted to blow all of it off, just to keep hanging out with Aziraphale. That wasn't an option though. Again, Aziraphale probably had better things to do.   
  
“Will you be alright for the rest of the night? Do you have anyone who could come stay with you? Make sure your alright?” He was concerned. Crowley couldn't imagine why. It was just a bad headache from some eye strain, he'd be okay. That's when he noticed Aziraphale had never asked him about his eyes. It was usually the first thing out of people's mouths when they saw them for the first time. Why wasn't he asking?  
  
“Um, yeah, I'll be fine. I have another job to go to later, so I'll prolly just take a nap in the mean time.” He picked at his cuticles, trying to buy himself more time.  
  
“Oh! Where else do you work?”   
  
_Why did you tell him you had another job?! Now you have to answer the question! What a dumb fucking corner you've got yourself in!  
  
“_Uh... Have you ever been to club Eden?” Crowley asked tentatively, knowing whatever came next might confirm his suspicions.   
  
“I believe I've been a few times, long time ago now though. Don't get out much these days, I'm afraid. Do you work there?”   
  
“I'm a dancer there, yeah, but not like, proper stripping or anything! It's mostly suggestive and we can do private dances and that sort of thing. And I guess it kind of is stripping, since I don't always have much left on by the end of the night, but like, not completely naked or anything! I still keep some things hidden! I- uh- yeah...” Crowley trailed off then, realizing how ridiculous he must have sounded, going a mile a minute about how he is and is not a stripper. He shook his head and stared down at the floor, once again letting his mouth make choices for him without his consent. “You should come by tonight! I usually go on around 9, you can see for yourself!”   
  
_SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, CROWLEY, I SWEAR TO SATAN!_   
  
“That actually sounds like fun! Like I said, I haven't been out in ages! Would it be alright if I brought some friends with me?” It almost seemed like he was looking forward to it. That can't be right...   
  
“Sure! Would hate to see you get bored, being there by yourself since I'll be pretty busy.” He tried a relaxed chuckle at that and hoped it sounded as cool and suave in his head as he intended. “And uh, thanks for the sunglasses and the ride. 'preciate it.” He handed the sunglasses back to Aziraphale and picked up his bag off the floor from between his feet. “I'll see you tonight!” He smirked and shot him a wink before getting out of the car and heading down the stairs to his flat. He didn't look back, knowing this time it worked. Once inside, he leaned against the door, shutting it quickly behind him, heart beating so fast he thought he might explode.   
  
_Well that was a thing!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to know Aziraphale and his friends and they go see Crowley dance!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: drinking, smoking, stripping, fake blood. If I missed anything, let me know!

Aziraphale attempted what he hoped was a casual, relaxed saunter into the bookshop, little bell chiming to announce his entrance.

He was anything but relaxed. He was tense and pulling at a loose thread on his jacket.

The drive home after dropping Crowley off was not a long one, but he got lost in his thoughts regardless.

_Crowley invited you to watch him dance and you said yes..._

_Why would you say yes?!_

_What were you thinking?!_

Newt came stumbling out of the backroom.

“Hello! Welcome to- Oh, it's just you, Az. I thought you were a customer!” He clutched his chest like that was the last thing he wanted.

“Just me! You can relax!” Aziraphale was starting to calm down a bit, feeling much better being in the company of close friends. 

“Aren't you still supposed to be at work?” Newt turned, heading to the backroom, Aziraphale following behind him.

Anathema and Madame Tracy looked up as they entered, just as confused as Newt had been. 

Based on the spread on the coffee table, Aziraphale figured they were taking a break to have some tea and biscuits.

“Here love, let me grab you a cup!” Madame Tracy scurried off to the little kitchenette, bright orange dress swirling around her.

“Thank you, dear.” He sat in his usual overstuffed armchair, readying himself for the barrage of questions he knew Anathema would have for him. Madame Tracy wasn't even back, before she started in.

“You're home awfully early. What happened with lover-boy?” She shot him an inquisitive look and once again he knew she probably had most of it figured out by now.

“If you must know, it was a slow day and they were offering some time- off.” He knew it wouldn't be enough, but he chose to hold out hope instead.

“And lover-boy?”

“He wasn't feeling well and he was leaving at the same time so I offered him a ride home. Turns out he doesn't live that far from here.” He adjusted his beige jumper and glared at Anathema. “And his name is Crowley! So if you could please stop calling him 'lover-boy' I would greatly appreciate it!” 

She held her hands up in mock surrender, laughing at how flustered he was getting. “Alright! Alright! I'll call him Crowley then! Is he okay though?”

“I think so, he said a nap would take care of it before he had to be at his next job.” He couldn't stop fidgeting, pulling at his sleeves, picking at his manicured nails, wringing his hands.

He was going to see Crowley dance. He already agreed he'd go. It would be terribly inpolite to not show up, but he needed support. Which meant inviting his friends. He had to get it together!

“... And what's his next job?” Anathema was squinting at him, brow furrowed, sensing something in his tone of voice.

He glanced at Newt who was sitting next to her, hoping he would save him, but Newt just shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, 'You're just gonna have to spit it out, mate.'

Madame Tracy was handing him his tea just then, prepared exactly how he liked. She sat back in her own chair and studied him for a moment. Watching as he quickly took a sip and grabbed a biscuit off the table, shoving it in his mouth so he could have more time to answer.

“He has another job? What is it then?”

He glared at Anathema. “You told her about him?”

“Of course I did! It's the most exciting thing that's happened to you in forever!” She gave him a mischievous grin. 

Of course she did. Why wouldn't she?

“He's a dancer, at Eden, and he invited him to come see him dance tonight and I was wondering if you all would come with me? I already told him I'd go, but I think it would be odd to go alone.” He rushed it out as fast as he could, grabbing another biscuit to stall again.

“I'd love to, dear, but these days I'd much rather stay in and watch some telly.” Madame Tracy wasn't even fazed, which really shouldn't have surprised him, given her previous employment.

Anathema's eyes had gone wide, however.

“You said yes?!”

“I thought it would be impolite to decline and I am off tomorrow and you've all been bothering me about getting out more so I thought it could be fun!” Once again rushing out the words before he could back down.

“Absolutely we'll go! Right, Newt?” She nudged him with her elbow, causing him to choke a little on the tea he had tried to swallow.

“Yeah, could be fun!” He said with a shy smile.

“Should we invite Gabriel, Uriel and Dagon? Oh! Everyone could come over for drinks before we head out!” She was getting excited. It had been a while since everyone had gotten together for something like this outside of their monthly game night.

“That sounds lovely, Ana, thank you.” He sighed, realizing just how much bigger this was going to be. “Should I order some pizza then?”

Anathema already had her phone out, fingers tapping urgently at the screen. She looked up briefly, smiling. “Please! Just wait until around 5!”

Aziraphale left her to it, choosing to head upstairs to the flat to try and figure out what to wear before everyone got there.

He spent the next few hours giving his three friends what they called a “fashion show”. Trying out different outfits in an attempt to decide what the right outfit would be to see a new friend/ acquaintance/ co-worker dance at an LGBTQ+ nightclub. It was a strange predicament to be in, and not one he had any kind of concept of how to dress for.

Eventually they settled on a pair of tight, black jeans- although nowhere near as tight as Crowley's- and a dark grey and burnt orange plaid button front shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

By the time 5 o'clock came, they were still arguing whether or not he should tuck in the shirt.

“I think with it untucked he looks more relaxed! Less stuffy!” Anathema was on the side of look cool and casual, but Madame Tracy thought he looked more refined with it tucked in. 

“Of course, dear, but wouldn't he rather want to come across as polished and sophisticated?”

“They work at a call center, I don't think either of them are coming off as polished and sophisticated!” Anathama snorted.

“Um, I think I might have an idea...” Newt said quietly. Aziraphale almost didn't hear him, being as he was getting frustrated over the whole affair. Everyone got quiet so they could hear him. “Maybe, you could, er, wear it open, with one of your band tees and chucks? You said he had, like, a kind of punk style, maybe he might like that?”

The three of them stopped to stare at Newt for a moment, all mulling the idea over. It was Anathema who broke the silence.

“Yes! That's it! Perfect! Go pick a shirt that goes with the plaid! And order the pizza while you're at it, everyone's gonna be here soon!”

Aziraphale was grateful for the opportunity to no longer have eyes on him, deciding they knew best what he should wear. Though he supposed it was his fault for asking for help in the first place. He was grateful for Newt's suggestion, since that was the kind of outfit he felt comfortable in and would typically wear on his days off. He decided on one of his In Flames shirts, the one one with the album art from Sounds of a Playground Fading.

Of all his friends, Newt probably knew him the best. They had been friends since primary school when they realized they both preferred to sit on the benches and read during recess than play with the other kids and they had been thick as thieves ever since. Newt had been the first person Aziraphale came out to when he was 14, and Newt had supported him. And when Aziraphale was ready to come out to his parents, Newt was there, confusing them slightly, since his parents had just assumed they had been dating for the past few years. Aziraphale never forgot how lucky he was to have the coming out experience he did. Everyone in his life just immediately accepting him. He knew other people had it much harder, and he decided to do whatever he could to support London's queer youth. 

His first order of business was starting a Gay Straight Alliance at their school. He had been met with quite a bit of push back from some staff, students and parents, with them saying it would pervert the student body. He was fortunately able to use his stellar debate skills to prove to them it was helpful and could potentially save lives. Him and Newt did a ton of independent research to make sure that when the first meeting happened they would be prepared. 

They hadn't expected a huge turn-out, but they were surprised anyone showed up at all.

Aziraphale had recognized Gloria Uriel since they were in band together- she played trombone, Aziraphale played french horn- and was happy to see her there. She was always so quiet they didn't really talk much, so he was looking forward to getting to know her better. He remembered her seeming shy but excited.

Next in was Dagon White, an energetic girl Aziraphale remembered seeing in the school plays. She had bounded into the room all smiles and he really appreciated the energy she brought with her.

The last person to walk in the room was Gabriel North, a very attractive boy who also happened to be on the school soccer team. He was the quintessential jock, and no one had expected to see him there. He had only just moved there a few months ago from the U.S., but was already one of the most popular boys in school. When they had started doing the icebreakers they found out that Gabriel was extremely passionate about the cause and it was very personal to him due to his lesbian moms. 

More people joined the club over time, but the five of them were the core. They got on like a house on fire and had been inseparable ever since.

Aziraphale was feeling more confident, thinking about his friends while he ordered the pizzas. He knew exactly what each of them liked and what dipping sauces he should get, less he be accosted by Dagon for forgetting. It was comfortable and safe. He knew for a fact, that no matter what happened tonight, he would be with them and they would make sure he had a great time.

Uriel and Dagon showed up half an hour later at the same time as the pizza. They didn't bother knocking, none of them did anymore.

“'Ello! We come bearing gifts of pizza!” Dagon bellowed as she burst through the door. She set everything down on the kitchen counter, including a bag Aziraphale assumed had alcohol in it.

He got up from the couch he had been sitting on, trying to do some reading before their guests arrived and joined them. They all exchanged hugs, Anathema and Newt joining them a moment later and doing the same.

“How are you, dears? I feel like it's been forever!” It had really only been a few weeks.

“Y'know, same shit, different pile. The theater company wants to do Hamlet, which I'm all for! But they won't let me audition for the lead! They want me to audition for Gertrude or Ophelia! The fuck!?” She says, exasperatedly. “I could play Hamlet! I still have my binders, so why the fuck not?! Bloody wankers! Anyways, can I get any of you cunts, a drink?”

“Do you have to be so crass?” Uriel gently chided her girlfriend and playfully swatted her arm.

“Yes! Because Az has a boyfriend and I'm excited to meet him and you know I can't contain myself when I get excited!” Dagon started grabbing shot glasses out of one of the cupboards.

“He's not my boyfriend!” Aziraphale exclaimed while he started fidgeting with his rolled cuffs.

“Potential boyfriend!” Anathema interjected, “But after tonight...” She trailed off, winking at Aziraphale.

“Please, he's a co-worker and a friend and I'm going to support him just like I would any of you!” He hoped that put an end to it.

“Alright, we'll let it go. For now.” Uriel pinched Dagon's arm and glared at Anathema.

“Oi! Wot was that for?!” Dagon yelped, spilling some of alcohol on the counter as she was filling the glasses.

“For being rude!”

“Fine fine! Here-” They started passing out the shot glasses, Aziraphale couldn't tell what was in them.

“Shouldn't we wait for Gabriel?” He was trying to stall, not wanting to get too drunk before they got to the club.

Just then, the door swung open and Gabriel stepped inside, beaming his wide smile at them.

“You guys ready to party?!” He said as he kicked the door shut behind him.

They all set down their shots and went to say hi, everyone gathering in the kitchen again after hugs were exchanged. Dagon prepared another shot for Gabriel and they stood waiting while she made a toast.

“Here's to a fucking great night! Cheers!”

Two and a half hours later, everyone was piled into Aziraphale's car, Newt choosing to be the designated driver. There weren't enough seats, so Dagon was sitting on Uriel's lap in the back, Aziraphale in the middle and Gabriel to his right. Anathema insisted she had needed the front seat because she didn't want anyone stepping on her long skirts. They argued about directions, stopping when Aziraphale's playlist shuffled to Mr. Brightside by the Killers which inspired Anathema to turn it up so it was blasting through the speakers and they could all sing along, everyone in high spirits.

By the time they got to the club, Aziraphale had almost forgotten why they were there in the first place, so wrapped up in the fun he was having. Newt had to park about 2 blocks away, giving him a chance to have a smoke and sober up a bit in the cold air. Which brought back the reason to the front of his mind.

He was shaking a bit, but not because of the cold. He was nervous. He was about to see Crowley in a way that he had never been expecting. He wasn't even sure what to expect! Newt noticed and dropped back a bit to walk with him.

“Hey, it's okay. Like you said, we're just going to support a friend, right?” He put his arm around Aziraphale's shoulders, giving him a light squeeze. “And if it's too much, we leave. No questions asked, you just say the word and we're gone.”

“Thank you, that does help.” He started to relax a bit again, forcing himself to remember who he was with.

The outside of the club was just as he remembered, a nondescript gray façade with a small sign over the door that just said Eden in bright red neon. A large blonde man wearing a tan trench coat was standing by the door, checking I.D.s. Aziraphale fished out his wallet to get his ready. He always got I.D.'d. 

Once they had all finished up their business with the bouncer, they hurried off into the club, walking down a tight, red lit hallway towards the curtain at the end. They passed a couple making out in the hallway and could hear the pounding bass rhythm of a pop song Aziraphale didn't recognize. He kept wringing his hands as they pushed past the curtains and into the rest of the club. 

It was dark and crowded, with a spotlight on the stage where he could see a girl twirling around a pole at the end of a long walkway that was shaped like a capital T. There were a few tables around it as well as around the edges of the room, with plenty of room to dance in between.

His friends ushered him over to the bar where a tall, rather stern looking woman was preparing drinks. He went to fish out his wallet again but Anathema stopped him.

“I'm getting your first drink. You didn't have much back at the apartment and you need to relax! He's not even on stage yet and you're a nervous wreck!” She said with a chuckle.

By the time they all had their drinks, the girl onstage had finished dancing and the spotlight was off, the music becoming your regular club fair. A few of the tables opened up around the stage, so he and Newt grabbed one while the others danced.

He focused on chatting with Newt and watching his friends and started relaxing more and more. Leaning into the buzz he was starting to get from his third drink of the night. For better or worse he had never been a light weight, and he knew he could have quite a few more before the night was up and be fine the next day. Eventually, his friends had to take a break and brought over more drinks and shots as they all crowded in around the small table.

“We should tip when he dances, right? I made sure to bring lots of cash!” Gabriel flashed him that mega-watt smile and winked, waving a wad of cash.

“I suppose so, yes, but please don't embarrass me!” Aziraphale pleaded, starting to regret his choice to invite everyone.

“We'll be good, we promisssssse!” Dagon drawled, already starting to slur her words a bit.

“Maybe you should-” Uriel started to say, but she was interrupted as the music cut out and the spotlight on the stage came on again, this time in the same red hue as the hallway. Then they heard the announcer, “Alright everyone! Put your hands together, for the lovely, the talented, the mysterious, TEMPTRESS!”

She yelled the name and everyone around the stage was clapping and whistling waiting for her to come out. 

Slow ominous bass started playing and then Crowley appeared from backstage, sauntering slowly toward the front of the stage, hips swaying sensuously from side to side. Aziraphale thought he would have to pick his jaw up off the floor.

Crowley was wearing a long, wavy red wig that fluttered as he walked, spilling over his shoulders. He had dark makeup on his eyes, fake eyelashes and black lipstick overdrawn so his lips looked even more luscious than they already were. His high cheekbones shone under the red light, making him look like an otherworldly being. He opened his mouth to lick his lips and Aziraphale could see he had put in fangs. His eyes trailed downward, taking in the long black robe he was wearing, but he didn't have long before Crowley was spinning and removing it, leaving him in a short, A- line, high- waist black skirt, that flared out around his hips. He looked upwards again to see he was wearing a black, faux leather, spiked bra with matching collar. He started moving in earnest as the song picked up, effortlessly swinging around the pole, his knee high, platform, stiletto boots not the slightest of a hindrance. He would slide down the pole and then be on his knees, swinging his hair and hips in time with the music, just to slowly get back on his feet, slender, elegant fingers tracing over his legs with nails painted a deep red, so long and sharp Aziraphale was sure he could cut someone with them. They were moving so deftly, he couldn't focus on all the tattoos he could finally see, trying to focus on each one and what they said about who Crowley was. The only one he could really make out was the large back piece, slightly hidden by the top of the skirt. It was a large beautiful galaxy, swirling in blues and purples and greens. He longed to explore it, see every hidden star. He was entranced. He almost didn't notice when the song blended smoothly into one he did recognize, Superbeast by Rob Zombie. Crowley's dancing picked up in pace and by the middle of the song he was in just a pair of black, faux leather short short that barely contained his small but perfectly round arse and he had removed the bra to be in just the collar and electrical tape X's over his nipples. While he was sliding down the pole near the end of the song, suddenly there was red dripping out of his mouth and down the front of him. Crowley ran his hands through it and smeared it over his chest and face while on his knees facing the crowd, gyrating his hips to music. He twirled on his knees and was standing again, back to the crowd, he looked out behind him and winked, before sauntering back offstage.

Aziraphale was frozen in his seat. He was vaguely aware his friends were clapping and cheering and there was someone onstage collecting up the bills that had been thrown there, the music back to normal.

That may have been the sexiest thing he had ever seen in his entire life. 

He began to notice someone was nudging him with their elbow.

“Oi! Back to reality, Azzzzzzz!” Dagon was snapping the fingers of her other hand in his face to get his attention. “I know it was hot an' all, but get a grip!”

“When you described him to me, you did not do him justice!” Anathema chuckled, “That man is gorgeous!”

“Yes, I suppose he is. Excuse me a moment.” Aziraphale got up and made his way out to the back patio, looking to get some fresh air and a smoke to calm down again. 

It was far less crowded than inside, but it was a much smaller space with nowhere to sit. So Aziraphale stood as far away from the door and the other club goers as he could. He had only taken a few drags before a different door than the one he had come out of was opened up and Crowley stepped out. He was still wearing the shorts and there were a few red marks on his face still, but he had obviously cleaned up a little and was wearing the jacket Aziraphale recognized as the one he wore every day. Aziraphale watched, as the door closed behind him and he looked out over the small crowd, his eyes stopping when he saw Aziraphale. He watched as Crowley froze for a moment.

_Oh dear, should I not have come? What if he's embarrassed? What if he was just inviting me to be nice?_

His brain was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to approach the situation. Before he could figure out what to say, Crowley was in front of him, lighting up his own cigarette.

“Hi Aziraphale! Did you catch the show?” He said with a smirk. He seemed so much more confident than Aziraphale had ever seen him.

“I did! You were magnificent!” He managed to choke out, blush tinting his cheeks and ears a bright red. He hoped it was too dark for Crowley to notice.

“Thanks! I put a lot of work into my routines!” It almost seemed like he was glowing under the praise he had given him. He tried to shake off how beautiful he looked and focus on having a normal conversation. 

“I was wondering what that first song was? I quite liked it!”

“Oh, uh, Head by Otep. I found it looking for songs that weren't your typical goth stripper songs. Everybody does Living Dead Girl, y'know?” He shrugged.

“Not really, I don't go to these sorts of clubs very often.” Crowley looked away, smile slipping a bit. “Oh, no! I mean, not that there's anything wrong with clubs like this, I just don't get out much these days!” Aziraphale blurted out, hoping he hadn't offended him. It seemed to work, as Crowley's smile returned. He hoped it would never go away.

“I get that. If I wasn't working I prolly wouldn't be here either.” 

They both fell quiet then, neither quite sure what to say next.

Finally, Crowley spoke up. “I uh, better get inside and prepare for my next show. It won't be for another hour, but I gotta get cleaned up and stuff... Are you gonna stick around?” The confidence was gone, and he seemed just like the Crowley he had met at work the day before, a little shy and unsure of himself. Only now he could see his eyes like he had earlier. They were unlike anything Aziraphale had ever seen. The irises were the colour of golden honey and the pupils in slits like a snakes. They were so expressive and unique and beautiful! He never wanted to look away.

He cleared his throat, “Absolutely! I'm looking forward to it! If it's anything like that first show I'm sure it will be spectacular!” He squeaked, failing at trying to sound normal and unaffected. Regardless, it seemed to bring Crowley's confidence back. He stood tall again and fixed Aziraphale with a cheeky grin.

“Good, you won't want to miss it.” He winked him and went back through the door he had come out of. Aziraphale would need to see an X- Ray, because based on the way he moved, he was sure the man had no bones at all. 

He gasped, not realizing he had been holding his breath and blinked a few times. Not believing the exchange he had just had. He looked at his phone and noticed a couple missed texts from his friends asking where he'd gone and if he'd hooked up with Crowley yet. He sighed and shook his head, putting his phone away. He hadn't realized how long he'd been gone for. So he tried his best to settle down and went back in to join his friends at the table he knew Newt would be guarding. 

It was just one more dance. He could get through one more dance! 

Right?

He wasn't so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I struggled a bit with this chapter, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out! If you have any suggestions, or things you'd like to see in the story, let me know! And again, thanks for reading! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: This chapter is a little heavy, just a heads up.  
> Stripping  
> Drinking  
> Unhealthy copping mechanisms  
> Drug Use  
> Self- Harm

Crowley sat at his station, still realing from the interaction he had with Aziraphale outside. He never expected him to show up. He thought maybe he was just being polite when he said he'd come. And to show up looking like Crowley had never seen him! He was used to the creams and tans and pastels he had seen the last 2 days at the call center. He never expected him to be here in a band shirt and plaid with the sleeves rolled up! Showing off his strong arms and what appeared to be a flaming sword tattoo on his right inner forearm. He thought about what it would be like to be held in those arms, how Aziraphale could probably manhandle him without any difficulty. 

Unfortunately, these thoughts caused him quite a bit of discomfort.

_Fucking tuck!_

Crowley shifted in his seat a bit to try and get comfortable and went back to the task at hand. 

He went about removing his makeup and reapplying it, trying as hard as could to keep his hands steady. This time he went for a more neutral eye look with a bold, black winged liner and added the fake eyelashes he had been wearing earlier. He did a little bit of contouring, trying his hardest to make his nose appear a little smaller and finishing with a bold, red lip. He carefully removed the red wig he was wearing and swapped it out for a long, straight black one with a blunt fringe. He applied a setting spray to make sure it held through all the sweating he was about to be doing and head to one of the private stalls to change into his next outfit. 

For his later shows he preferred to go more sensual as opposed to the harder, edgier performance he would do at the beginning of the night. He liked to start by getting the energy up and getting people excited for the next few acts. By his last show of the night, people were getting tired and drunk and he found it fun to suddenly get them all riled up and grabbing the closest person to them to take home for the night.

He liked being a tempter. Inspiring want and lust in others. It was the main reason he enjoyed this job as much as he did. Not all of the performers stayed with it, and he saw a lot of people come and go over the last year but he reveled in it. Being the source of others desires, a fantasy they could never have.

Crowley stripped down and grabbed his next outfit out of his bag. He slipped on the high- waisted, red lace panties first, making sure everything was smooth and secure, after, adding the matching sheer, red lace bra. Next was the garter belt and once that was on and tight, he slipped out of the flip flops he wore backstage and slid on the matching garters, attaching them to the belt. He stepped out of the stall and looked at himself in the full length mirror. 

He ran his hands down his torso, smoothing everything out and gently playing with the lace. He knew he looked good and couldn't wait to show Aziraphale!

_What if he left? What if this whole thing has just made him uncomfortable and he'll ask for a different desk on Monday? What if I'm too feminine for him? He probably wants someone as strong as he is! Someone butch and manly! Not this weird, fucked up mess! Why do you even care? You won't date him, you never date anyone! The pain of disappointing an actual Angel would be so much worse, so stop caring so much and get on with your bloody job!_

Crowley had managed to reign in his insecurities when he was right in front of Aziraphale, leaning on his old standard of just being cocky and flirty hoping it would hide how nervous he was; how much he hated himself. He had to pretend. Anyone who ever knew him hated him, so he couldn't let them see; let them know him. As long as he kept that mask on, those barriers up, he was safe. He couldn't hurt or hurt others. 

He tried to shake these thoughts off as he finished getting dressed. He added a knee length, black wrap dress with a plunging neck line and long sleeves, effectively hiding the lingerie underneath.

The other performers were all milling about, chatting to one another, laughing, doing their makeup and being friendly. He never participated in all that, choosing to keep to himself instead. It definitely made him a pariah. When new performers would start, the others would warn them not to talk to Crowley. That he was grouchy and unpleasant, and he liked it that way. 

He sat at his station, time dragging by until he had to be onstage again. He always felt better under the spotlight. He knew he had power there, no matter who was in the crowd. Whatever nerves he had faded, as soon as he stepped onstage and he really needed that tonight.

Eventually, a stage hand came back and let him know he had five minutes and that his throne was ready. It wasn't really a throne, just a simple gold chair, but he always liked to think of it as one, because when he was on it, he felt like royalty.

He got up and slipped on his black, platform, stiletto heels, doing up the ankle strap so he wouldn't accidently kick his shoes off (it happened his first time on the pole and he made sure to never wear shoes without straps ever again).

He waited by the side of the stage until he heard Ligur's voice come through the sound system.

“Please welcome back the stage for their final performance of the night, TEMPTRESS!”

He walked carefully out and sat down on the throne at the back of the stage, legs crossed, arms draped over the sides. The stage was still dark so he could peer out and saw a tuft of white blond curls sitting at a table right next to the end of the stage where the pole was. 

He stayed!

Crowley closed his eyes as the lights came up and Glory Box by Portishead started playing. It was one of his favourite songs but also, he found it incredibly sexy and fun to dance to. As Beth Gibbons started to sing the first few words, his eyes flew open, he leaned forward and ran his hands over his smooth legs and up over the rest of his body, slowly bringing them up his long neck and into his hair. He twisted his head around, making the long black wig dance over his shoulders. Every move was slow and deliberate until he got to the chorus and he spread his legs wide, still sitting in the chair. He leaned forward again and whipped his hair around in a tight circle, then doing a body roll. He quickly spun in the chair so his long legs were draped over the back and brought his hands up his body once more, settling on the floor so he could kick his legs out and into a split in the air, back pressed uncomfortably into the edge of chair. He could hear some clapping and shouting, but ignored it to continue with his act. He kicked out towards the audience, so he was on his knees, back to them. He placed his hands on the seat and hopped up, spreading his legs so he was standing, bent over the chair. He swiveled his hips back and forth and in circles before spinning and sitting back down. He grabbed the arms of the chair and thrust his legs out straight, chest up and then he was one his knees again, hair flipping around and out of his face so he could crawl seductively towards the front of the stage where the pole was. He grabbed it and swung around, still on his knees but about an inch off the stage before settling in front of it, legs spread on either side, hands above his head grabbing on. He used all of his strength to lift himself up, legs swinging over his head and wrapping around the pole so he was upside down and vertical, back to the audience. Once again he heard the crowd gasp, cheer and clap, but he was nearing the end of the song and needed to focus. He held on tight with his legs and let go with his hands, bending back so he could grab the pole above his head behind him and he could let go with his legs wind himself around the pole like a snake. He slid down like this until his feet hit the stage, he held on with one hand as he slowly walked around it, before standing in front again, he could hear the lyrics: “This is the beginning, of forever and ever...” He undid the dress and let it slowly slide off as he walked to the back of the stage and sat back down on his throne, legs crossed again, but this time in just the red lingerie.

The next song started as he sat, Do It For Me by Rosenfeld. He got up again and sauntered over once amore to the pole, hips gliding back and forth suggestively. This one required more acrobatics. He climbed up and wound himself around it, whipping his hair, kicking out his legs in splits, sweeping them in wide arcs, doing body rolls against it, sliding down to his knees and gyrating just to pull himself back up and moving gracefully. Hooking his legs and holding tight so he could bite his thumb and run it down his almost naked body before swinging around again. He was thankful for the gymnastics classes he had when he was younger, using what he learned now to keep flipping and swinging around while staying sexy and sowing the seeds of lust. He finished, standing upright in front of the pole, facing the audience and took a bow, careful to avoid looking directly out at the Angel to his right.

He turned and walk offstage, avoiding stepping or slipping on the bills scattered everywhere. He was out of breath when he got to the dressing room. He reached into his bag and grabbed his inhaler. The ridiculousness of it not lost on him. He felt good about that performance. He gave it his all and based on the amount of money the stage hand brought back for him, figured it was appreciated. 

Once he got himself together he went about removing everything but his makeup. He had told Michael after the first show that night he didn't want to do any private dances tonight and unsurprisingly, she was okay with that. She never forced him to do anything he didn't want to and he would forever be grateful. He would normally go home immediately after he was done if he didn't have anything else going on, but tonight he wanted to hang around a bit. Maybe talk to Aziraphale again. So he slipped into something a little more comfortable: skin- tight, black leather trousers, combat boots and sheer black button down shirt, left untucked. He made his way over to the bar where Michael had his favourite beer waiting for him.

“You know me so well.” He said with a smirk and a wink.

“Can't have you getting dehydrated, can I?” She winked back before going to help the other people crowded around the bar.

He leaned back against it and looked out, trying to see if Aziraphale was still sitting at the same table. He wasn't, so Crowley assumed he was out on the patio having a smoke. 

He grabbed his beer and walked out, pulling out the pack of cigarettes that miraculously fit in his pocket and looking around the patio. Eventually, he heard some laughter from the corner Aziraphale had been in the last time he was out here, but now he wasn't alone. He was talking with a few other people. Crowley was about to just slink off to a corner and not bother, not wanting to ruin his night when he noticed someone stop beside him. A tall bloke, with a strong chin and perfectly coifed hair. The man was smiling at him, rather smugly and Crowley didn't like it one bit. He was starting to consider getting Sandy over- sometimes customers thought they could manhandle him- but then the man started to speak.

“Great show tonight! You work with Aziraphale, right? Come join us!” He said, still smiling. He started walking toward the group and gestured to follow.

He took a long sip of his beer and went, figuring it would be rude to run away now.

As he approached, the handsome American man called everyone's attention to him.

“Look who I found!” Crowley was starting to get a tad annoyed by how loud and confident this guy was, but figured he must be a friend of Aziraphale's so he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He didn't even get a chance to say hi before he was being asked a question by another person, a small dark skinned woman to his left.

“Are you okay with hugs?” She asked with a sweet smile.

“Ngk... yeah, don't mind.” And suddenly she was grabbing him in a tight hug.

“Welcome to the group! I'm Uriel, this is my girlfriend Dagon!” She said when she pulled away, gesturing to a blonde woman who looked like she could very easily beat him in any kind of fight without breaking a sweat. He immediately found her intimidating, but then she was hugging him as well.

“Whatever they ssssay about me, s'allllllll liesssss!” She slurred, Crowley quickly figuring out she was probably the most drunk of the lot. 

Then a tan woman with long black hair, round glasses and flowing black skirts was stepping toward him, tugging a tall, nerdy looking man along with her as she closed the short distance between them.

“Sorry, we're huggers! Do you mind?” She seemed to genuinely want to know before she followed suit and hugged him like the other two had, even though he thought he had already said yes.

“Yeah, thought I said it was fine.” He was seriously confused by her asking again.

“You said yes to Uriel, not all of us. Never a bad idea to ask for consent consistently! Consent can be revoked at any time and-” 

“Yes, dear, we know. Probably not the best time to go on a rant about consent.” The nerdy man said softly, before reaching out and shaking Crowley's hand. “I'm Newton, but everyone calls me Newt.”

“Anytime is a good time to go on a rant about consent! You can never be too educated on safe sex practices!” Crowley could tell this was a passion of hers and found it incredibly endearing. “I'm Anathema, by the way!” Then she quickly hugged him and stepped back.

“Gabriel, good to meet you!” Crowley was surprised when the tall, American man also gave him a hug, not expecting him to be so affectionate.

“Ugh, hi everyone!” He stared out at the circle and gave a small wave. He finally got a chance to look properly at Aziraphale. He looked embarassed and mouthed a silent apology to him. That made Crowley smile.

The Angel had friends, and they were a rowdy bunch! Once again defying all his expectations. 

“You were fantastic up there! Seriously impressive! You must have incredible upper body strength! How much can you bench?” Crowley got the impression Gabriel wanted to squeeze his bicep, which he likely would have found unimpressive.

“Fuck off Gabriel! Not everyone lives in the gym like you do!” Anathema said with a laugh, “Sorry about him, he thinks constantly trying to acheive physical perfection is a personality trait!” 

“You're just jealous!”

“How about you all leave the poor boy alone? I can't imagine he'll want to come to the Halloween party if we continue on like this!” Uriel piped up. Crowley suspected she might be the voice of reason in this group.

“The Samhain party!” Anathema corrected.

“Yes yes, the Samhain party! But maybe we should head back in and grab some more drinks, let these two talk!” And suddenly Uriel was ushering the group away, leaving just him and Aziraphale standing there awkwardly.

“So those were your mates, then?” Crowley quirked an eyebrow up at him, trying to seem unbothered by the onslaught of attention he had just received.

“Yes, erm, sorry about them. We've known each other a very long time and we have a way of interacting with each other other people have said is intimidating and odd.” Aziraphale was squirming, fiddling with the label on his beer bottle.

“S'alright. They seem fun!”

“They mean well, they can just get to be a little too much for most people as a group. Individually they aren't so bad.”

“It must be nice.” Crowley said solemnly. He was thinking about all the friends he had briefly before jumping ship. He was starting to really notice how lonely he truly was. 

It has to be okay. 

It has to be okay.

You NEED it to be okay!

“Having friends you need to apologize for?” Aziraphale chuckled, “Hardly, dear boy! Sometimes I think they're more trouble than they're worth!” There was a fondness there though, a love Crowley could say he couldn't ever remember feeling.

“Right, well, I hope you enjoyed the show. I should probably get heading home-”

“No!” Aziraphale rushed out, “I mean, we're probably heading back to the bookshop if you'd like to join us?” 

_Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous to just ask him to hang out with his friends?_

_Don't go. You can't go. Don't get attached!_

“Thanks for the offer, but it's been a long day, I should get going.”

“Ah yes, of course. Well, I'll see you Monday then!” Aziraphale was smiling but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

Crowley nodded at him, giving his typical two fingered salute and walked back inside. He made his way to the back to grab his stuff and just as he was heading out the front door he felt a hand close around his arm. He was about ready to tell the person to fuck off, when he noticed the nerdy man from before was the one doing the grabbing. 

“Erm, sorry, so sorry, but I wanted to give you this.” He pressed a napkin into Crowley's hand and stepped back, releasing his hold on his arm. “Hopefully we'll see you next weekend!” He smiled in a way that implied something, but Crowley wasn't quite sure what.

“Yeah, sure.” He sauntered off to get in the rideshare he had waiting outside. 

Once he was settled in the back seat, he opened the napkin and saw two sets of phone numbers and names. One was Anathema's, the other was Newt's. There was also an address, with a date and time: October 31st, 6pm. 

He folded up the napkin and put it in his pocket.

He knew he shouldn't go. It was a bad idea. Just setting himself up for more pain.

By the time he got home he was panicking. He couldn't wrap his head around it. Not only did he potentially have a friend in the Angel, now he was being invited to a party. With people. 

Why? Why would they want to be friends with him? Was this all a joke? We're they taking the piss? Look at the pathetic loser who wears women's lingerie as a stripper! Let's invite him to a party so we can destroy what little self- esteem he has?

Inviting Aziraphale to tonight's show had been a mistake. He'd never invited anyone before and now he knew why. It was one thing to dance for strangers but he knew Aziraphale. He was vulnerable when he danced and he could see it. His friends could see it. 

Aziraphale was sweet and pure and everything that was good as far as Crowley could tell. What could he possibly want with someone like him? That's probably why his friends invited him to the party. To make sure Aziraphale would see he could do so much better than Crowley.

Damaged Crowley.

As soon as he was through the door he collapsed against it, sliding to the floor, no longer able to hold back the tears. Memories crashing through his brain to remind him who he was, what he was worth.

_“Do you really think anyone could possibly want you? Look at you!”_

_“How can you be that fucking stupid?”_

_“You'll just end up alone, riddled with STIs.”_

_“You're a disappointment.”_

_“You're too much”_

_“Too weird...”_

_“Too needy...”_

_“No one could ever love you.”_

He was shaking, sobbing as the words played over and over again through his head, like a playlist on repeat. He pressed his nails into the back of his neck. Eventually he could feel the little trickles of warmth slide down the back of his shirt and the tears started to slow. He got up and went to the bathroom, switching on the light hurt but he had to survey the damage. He pulled the little moveable mirror he had mounted to the wall to help with cutting the back of his hair and saw eight, little red crescent marks, four on each side, all bleeding slightly. He sighed and grabbed some toilet paper to wipe away the blood. They weren't deep so they had already stopped actively bleeding. When he was done he pushed the mirror away and turned the light off. He didn't want to look at himself anymore. He laid down on his bed, not bothering to change and curled up in the fetal position, softly weeping until he succumbed to a restless sleep.

He awoke at 10am to the sounds of life coming in from off the street outside. His eyes felt gummy and his head was pounding. He got up to splash some water on his face and take some pain killers when he noticed the balled up, bloody toilet paper in the sink and memories of the previous night came back to him. He decided then he was done for the day and texted his two appointments he was supposed to have later in the day that he would have to reschedule. He stripped down to his boxers, grabbed the bottle of cheap whisky out of the freezer and his smokes. He flopped down on his bed and put everything on top of the dresser. He pulled out an ashtray, small pipe and and old pill bottle that held his weed from the top drawer. He turned on the t.v. and found something perfectly melancholy to watch while he smoked and drank and eventually stopped feeling anything and passed out again. He continued this cycle until waking up feeling like absolute shit Monday morning.

He had to go to work.

Aziraphale would be there.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Between writers block and a dental emergency I was a bit out of commission.   
> I know this probably wasn't what you were expecting, but it's where the story took me!  
> This chapter got very personal for me, and the negative things Crowley's heard said about him are all things that have been said about me.  
> If you're experiencing the kinds of feelings Crowley is having in this chapter, trust me, you are not alone. If you think you need help, please reach out. Even if it's just to me. I'll listen <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale finally get a chance to get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I'm hoping to get back on a more regular posting schedule!
> 
> CW: Drinking

Aziraphale woke late on Saturday, his head still reeling from the night before. 

As he blinked open gummy eyes, and tried to make sense of when he had replaced his tongue with carpet, he thought of the previous night. He had a wonderful time being out with his friends and was grateful for the opportunity to see Crowley dance. He laid in bed remembering the long, lean lines of his body as he elegantly maneuvered around the pole, the confidence when he walked in those incredibly high heels, the way his eyes glowed under the stage lights. If he hadn't been afraid of catching feelings before, he certainly was now. He had only known the man less than a week, and already he was falling head over heels for him. 

As much as he wanted to indulge those feelings, he knew it wasn't smart. It wasn't logical. Aziraphale didn't take chances. He planned things out and never did anything without thinking it through. No one could ever say he was impulsive. 

He reached over to the end table, still not opening his eyes completely and grabbed his phone. Blearily, he gazed at it, noticing it was already eleven a.m. He sighed and set his phone aside again. He could hear music coming from the kitchen and playful voices. 

He shoved himself out of his cozy, warm bed and put on his slippers which he thankfully left by the bed and shuffled out to join Newt and Anathema. 

“Good morning!” He said, far more cheerfully and awake than he felt.

“Good morning! And good timing! Brunch is almost ready!” How Anathema could have this much energy this early would always be a mystery to Aziraphale. 

“Figured we could all do with a fry up. We didn't have everything, so I hope tomatoes, beans, bacon and toast will suffice.” Newt still had his back to him, but he seemed tense. After being friends for so long, Aziraphale could always tell when Newt was off.

“That sounds lovely, thank you.” Before he could say anything else, Anathema was shoving a huge glass of water at him.

“You can have tea later, right now you need to hydrate and eat a load of unhealthy food!” She said, with almost too much cheer, the smile she was wearing seemed forced.

“Okay, I know something is going on and I imagine you planned to soften me up with breakfast but I am decidedly not in the mood this morning. So, out with it! What's got you two acting so strange?” Aziraphale could tell something was up and his patience was starting to wear thin with the beginnings of a headache. If it was what he was expecting, he was honestly more surprised it had taken as long as it had.

Anathema sighed and gestured to Newt and bring the plates over so they could sit around the coffee table and eat. Aziraphale picked up his glass and sat cross- legged on the side that placed him directly in front of the t.v., Anathema and Newt sitting together on the other side. They held hands and shared an unspoken conversation between before Newt finally spoke up.

“Last night, after we got home from the bar, Ana and I were talking and we, erm, we...”

“Newt asked me to move in with him and I said yes.” Anathema said, matter- of- factly, deciding to just rip the band aid off quickly.

Aziraphale knew this was coming. Had been preparing himself for it for a while. It still didn't hurt any less. He loved living with Anathema, having someone to come home to and with her dating Newt, he was around quite often as well. Despite being an introvert, it was nice. He was going to miss it.

“We'll still be around all the time! We're both still going to work in the bookshop, and Newt doesn't live that far!” She continued.

“I know, dear. It does make sense, and congratulations to the both of you. I know it's a big step and I support you both.” He forced a smile with that. “When do you plan on moving?”

They shared another look and once again, Aziraphale knew what was coming.

“After the Samhain party, on the Sunday. Figured we could use it as a new chapters party as well.” And for once, Anathema looked rather sheepish. Like she knew how this was all making him feel.

“Yes, I suppose that makes sense, given it will be the first of the month. And I'll help however I can!” Aziraphale was genuinely happy for them and with his experience as a mover, knew that they would accept his help. 

“Absolutely! You'll be in charge!” Newt piped up, smiling at Aziraphale around a bite of beans. They all chuckled at that and spent the rest of their brunch discussing what Anathema would be taking with her and joking about how Gabriel would react when they told him they needed his truck. Eventually, though, they had to come back to reality.

“Do you think you'll get another roommate?” Newt asked, shooting Aziraphale a rather pointed look.

As Newt got up to collect the dishes, Aziraphale moved to the couch and considered the question.

“I don't know... I hadn't thought that far ahead yet. I'm sure I could afford it on my own, but it would be easier to share the expenses with someone.” He answered thoughtfully.

“What about Crowley? You said he lived in a shitty basement apartment. This would probably be an improvement!” He hated when Anathema was right. He probably could ask Crowley, but that seemed like a horrendous idea. Not only that, but Crowley had never expressed to him in their rather limited conversations that he was looking to move and he said as much to Anathema. 

“Well, he'll see it on Saturday regardless!” She said, chipper as can be as she got started on the dishes. 

Azirphale whipped his head around at that and stared at her wide- eyed. “Why?”

“I invited him to the party! I let him know it was, what do you guys call it? Fancy Dress! And gave him my number in case he has any questions!” She purposefully did not turn around.

Aziraphale groaned and pushed his face into the couch cushions. His voice was muffled but Anathema heard him regardless. “Again, why?!”

“Everyone liked him! We thought he was nice, and also, we noticed the way you two kept looking at each other, making moon- eyes! And don't get mad at me! It was Newt's idea!”

Aziraphale raised his head to shoot Newt what he hoped was a withering stare, “Et tu, Brute?”

“Yes, and he hasn't agreed to come yet anyways, so there's no reason to get all worked up about it!” Newt said in his most calming voice, which mostly just sounded nervous. 

Aziraphale flopped over so he was laying on the couch, his right arm thrown over his eyes. He heard the sink drain and Anathema come over and move his legs so they were across her lap as she sat down. She started rubbing his feet, her way of an apology.

“Look, I know this is probably really uncomfortable for you, and I'm sorry if we overstepped. I know having a partner isn't the only way to be happy, but after Jeremy, you deserve someone who will appreciate you for all that you are, and I think Crowley could be that person. You don't have to rush in to anything, but don't push him away either. See where this goes, okay?” She said in her most soothing voice. 

Aziraphale wanted to argue with her, but he couldn't muster up the energy. Instead, he laid there and allowed Anathema to continue rubbing his feet while he heard Newt turn on the t.v. and selected one of their favourite movies to watch. He was thankful the conversation appeared to be over and they could move on to having a comfortable lazy day. 

The rest of the weekend was much the same, but with the addition of Newt staying the whole time and the three of them starting to pack up Anathema's things. By the time Monday morning came around, he had a plan to deal with this whole Crowley mess. He just hoped it was successful.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Crowley decided on the way into work that he would just ignore Aziraphale. Sure, he was sweet and charming and gorgeous and seemed like a genuinely nice person, but he'd been down this path before. They always seemed nice until eventually they'd really see who he was and either he'd be hurt, or he would hurt them. It was a vicious cycle. One he had put an end to. That was that. No more taking advantage of someone's kindness, or mistaking theirs for something real. Wasn't that what he had just spent the weekend wallowing in self- pity about?

_Figure it out! Get your shit together! Do you think they all hate you or do you desperately need to feel wanted by someone? Nah, goes hand in hand, doesn't it? You don't even care if they hate you, as long as you get to pretend they care! And it almost feels real! But it doesn't matter, it always ends in a pool of burning sulfur anyways. So what's it going to be? Stay alone, or indulge in a small amount of feeling loved?_

He didn't much care for either option. Maybe there was another alternative?

_It could be real! It could be real! IT COULD BE REAL!_

He thought he silenced that voice a long time ago. He didn't need optimism, not anymore. 

So he settled for lonely. At least then there would be fewer casualties. 

He felt good about this. He would just be his normally unapproachable self and Aziraphale was clever, he'd figure it out quickly. Making this whole thing fairly clean and simple. He'd eventually talk to the other employees and they'd all share their stories of how shitty Crowley was. He had other friends, he didn't need another one, probably didn't really want one either.

He got on the phones feeling as though he could finally be free of all this and go back to how things had been. The first couple of hours flew by since his first customer was a lovely woman who wanted to set up four new mobile lines for her family and needed a lot of help choosing the right phones and plans. She had been sweet, so he actually enjoyed helping her. She told him all about her kids and how amazing they were and Crowley didn't mind at all. He liked this part of the job. The part that allowed him to connect with another human being for a short time. The barrier of the phones and the fact he'd never talk to them again made it easier. In the end, the call lasted an hour and it stayed pretty steady after that, giving him something to focus on instead of constantly overthinking every interaction he'd had with Aziraphale thus far. He also didn't notice when he showed up.

He just finished with a rather angry customer and threw his headphones down. Whirling around in the chair to prop his feet up on the other his feet collided with Aziraphale's shins.

“Oh shit! Sorry! You okay?” Crowley just froze in his seat, arms out as if to catch Aziraphale as he fell. Even though he didn't seem shaken by it all.

“That's quite alright!” He leant over to wipe off his pants, even though Crowley hadn't left any marks. “Shouldn't be surprised, given how long those legs of yours are!” He chuckled and smiled, finally sitting down. 

“Uh, er... yeah, whatever... ngk.” Crowley tried his best at a sneer, but instead looking rattled, and turned back to take more calls. He would have sent up a prayer if he believed in any kind of a God, when a call came through right away. 

He managed to avoid Aziraphale for most of the day, not even seeing him at lunch and assumed he hadn't been able to get off a call in time. It slowed down in the afternoon but he kept getting longer calls, which kept him busy and unable to chat. So far, it was shaping up to be a pretty good day!

He was just about to clock out for the day when he spotted Cheryl walking around with a clipboard. She was heading his way.

_Fuck! Shit! Fuck! Turn around! What if he takes it? What if he offers you a ride home again?!_

She walked right up to them

“Hello boys! Anthony, I know you're leaving but Az- Az- Um, Zira?” She stumbled over his name again. She should be embarrassed! It's not that hard! He thought to himself. 

But out loud he said, “Why're you always hirin' more people if your just going to send us home early all the time!” He said that maybe a little louder than he should have, and maybe a little more aggressively than he meant to, but he had been having such a good day! 

A few heads turned to stare at them. Aziraphale had been signing the clipboard.

_FUCK!_

“Excuse me, Anthony, but you are not allowed to speak to me that way! When you get here tomorrow, you are to report directly to HR and we'll have a chat about this attitude of yours!” She huffed, snatching the clipboard from Aziraphale and storming off to her desk.

“We'll that was a thing.” Crowley said, deadpan, and sniffed. He shrugged and grabbed his bag, starting to leave when Aziraphale spoke up.

“Quite! Actually, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab a drink? There's a little place not far from where you live, and it seems like you could use one.” He smiled at Crowley, a bright, beatific thing that had him stunned. 

Causing him to once again, forget how to make his brain and mouth cooperate with each other.

“Why not?” He walked away, assuming Aziraphale would follow him out. If he wasn't there when he turned around after getting to the car he'd just keep walking to the bus stop. But he was there, so he felt like he had no choice but to get in at this point.

They sat in silence as he drove to their destination, Crowley remembering he had no idea where they were going. Instead of parking at a restaurant or pub though, Aziraphale parked behind a bookshop. 

His anger replaced with curiosity. Why were they parked behind a bookshop when Aziraphale invited him out for a drink. Was this some sort of weird, hipster bar that disguised itself as a bookshop.

Aziraphale seemed to notice his confusion once they had both gotten out.

“Ah yes! Turns out, we don't live that far from each other! About five blocks if I remember correctly! I live, here, above the shop. The place I mentioned is kind of right between us!” He beamed and started off towards the sidewalk, in the direction of the restaurant, Crowley assumed and followed.

“So where're we going?” 

“Right! It's called the Whale, don't know why though. There's nothing whale or nautical themed anywhere in the place! Anyways, they serve drinks and food but they also have books you can read, or table top games you can play and sometimes they have live music! It's quite cozy!” Crowley could do this all day, just watch while Aziraphale bubbled with enthusiasm and passion. He couldn't get it out his head that this man was good.

That was all Crowley could think. Aziraphale was _good_.

By the time they finally got to the Whale it was fully dark outside, and Aziraphale had settled down a bit.

They saw themselves to a little table in the corner. Crowley sat and adjusted to his usual sprawl, legs spread out in front of him and right arm swung over the back of the chair. The lighting had a slightly yellow hue, which went perfectly with the warm, dark interior of the place. Aziraphale was right, it was certainly cozy. There were a few comfortable looking armchairs in front of a roaring fireplace to the left of a long dark wood bar. There were a few tables scattered around the small space, none of them matching and large bookcases taking up an entire wall full of games and books.

Aziraphale sat perfectly straight in his chair, posture perfect, hands folded in front of him on the table.

“Thank you so much for joining me tonight. I'm really looking forward to getting to know each other better.” Aziraphale smiled encouragingly at him. 

Crowley didn't know what to say, all his initial plans forgotten as he was met with such an open, honest look. So he settled for a, “Ngk.” as their server approached, a young man with a mop of dirty blond hair. 

“Zira! How are you?” He exclaimed with a big smile.

“I'm well, Adam! And how is university going? I haven't seen you guys at the bookshop in a while!” 

“Turns out, uni is a lot more work than we were expecting, but we'll be at the party on Saturday! Pepper is seeing someone and can't wait to introduce them to you guys!” 

“Wonderful! I'm looking forward to it!” Aziraphale seems genuinely excited and Crowley starts to suspect he has friends everywhere. “Oh! This is Crowley, we work together at the call center! Crowley, this is Adam! He and his friends hang out at the bookshop!” He gestures between them as he makes the introductions.

Crowley reaches out to shake Adam's offered hand.

“Nice to meet you Crowley!” He places a couple menus on the table. “What can I get you guys to start?”

“The usual for me please, Adam.” Aziraphale sits back in his chair with a little wiggle. Crowley can't help but find it endearing.

“Do you have Newcastle on tap?” Crowley asks.

“We do! Pint of Newcastle then?”

“Er, yes, please. Thanks.”

“No problem! Back in a tick!” Adam leaves to get their drinks and Crowley notices Aziraphale hasn't picked up a menu at all.

“So what's good here then?” Crowley suspects Aziraphale probably has some opinions on the matter.

“Everything is good! It's mostly your basic pub fair, but it really does hit the spot after a stressful day!” His face lights up while he shares what his favourite dishes are with Crowley and by the time Adam comes back with their drinks, he's already made his decision. Aziraphale orders the shepherd's pie and Crowley goes for the basic fish and chips. Once Adam leaves again, Crowley notices Aziraphale's regular drink order is the same as what he had ordered.

“Would've have thought you to be a red wine kind of guy.” Crowley says jokingly, taking a sip of his beer,

“Well, usually yes, but as much as I like this place their wine selection is abysmal!” He laughs. Crowley laughs with him.

“Fair enough!” They settle into silence again, Crowley unsure how to continue the conversation. Thankfully, Aziraphale picks up the slack.

“You don't strike me as a small talk person, so let's skip all that.” He says decidedly.

“What did you have in mind then?” Crowley's quirks an eyebrow at him over his sunglasses, unsure where this conversation is going.

Aziraphale thinks for a moment, “Hmmm... Let's see... Well, if you could be any monster or mythical being what would you be?”

Crowley nearly chokes on his beer. “Excuse me?!”

“If you could be any monster or mythical being, what would you be?” He repeats, as if Crowley hadn't actually heard him the first time.

“Yeah, I heard you! What kind of question is that?!” He can't help but be charmed and confused by it.

“I figure it can tell you a lot about a person. What they would choose to be if they had the option to not be human. So! What would you choose?” Aziraphale appears to have an infinite amount of patience and Crowley is grateful for that.

“Dunno, never really thought about it before. I guess maybe, a shapeshifter? The ability to be anyone or anything I want at will. I like the thought of that.” Crowley responds thoughtfully. “What about you? What would you be?”

“I would probably want to be a phoenix. I like how they represent rebirth and they can fly! I've always wanted to be able to fly!” Aziraphale has a far off look on his face, but his eyes are twinkling, probably imagining what it would be like to fly with the power of his own wings.

“That's a very good answer!” Then Crowley has a question of his own. “I got one! What is your favourite scent? Not like, fragrances or candles or anythin', but like, y'know?” He immediately feels stupid, not getting the words out the way he wanted to, but Aziraphale doesn't seem to notice, understanding exactly what he meant.

“Old books! The old paper and dust! It's a bit of a comfort for me.” He's excited for a moment, before his expression softens. “We didn't have a lot of money growing up, so the library was my main source of entertainment. In my teens I found Tracey's bookshop and started spending all my time there. Books have always been my safe haven, I guess you could say.” He smiles wistfully.

“That's actually really beautiful! I had something similar, but with movie theaters. We moved around a lot but no matter where we went, there was always a movie theater. So I guess my favourite smell is movie theaters.” Crowley sighs, realizing his answer is pretty lame.

“That is lovely! We found spaces we felt comfortable in despite the turmoil in our lives!” Aziraphale says brightly and instantly Crowley feels something he'd never properly felt before.

Acceptance.

It's right then and there Crowley makes a choice. It might be dangerous and ill advised, but no matter how this falls apart he won't regret it. He'll treasure these moments as long as he can have them.

“I never thought about it that way...”

“We all need to feel as though we belong somewhere.” Crowley's left hand had been resting on the table and for a moment he thinks Aziraphale might reach out and touch his hand in a comforting gesture, but Adam reappears with their food and the action is aborted.

They tuck in and continue asking each other strange questions and laughing, getting steadily more drunk as Adam keeps refilling their drinks. Three beers and 2 hours later, they're stumbling out of the Whale and laughing loudly, trying their best to remember all the words to Dragula. Eventually, they find themselves standing outside Crowley's apartment, not even realizing they had walked all the way there.

“This is me.” Crowley rubs the back of his neck, not sure what to do next. He doesn't want this night to end, but he's not sure if it would be appropriate to invite Aziraphale in. Still not entirely sure what this is.

He gathers all his courage and decides to just go for it.

“Do you ah, want to come in? Watch a movie or something?”

Aziraphale looks tense for a moment, and Crowley is sure he fucked this up. 

He just wants to be friends and now you're making it weird! Apologize and let- 

“That sounds lovely! Thank you!” Aziraphale smiles reassuringly at him and starts to walk down the stairs ahead of him.

Crowley rushes after him and unlocks the door. As he steps in however, he notices a piece of paper shoved underneath. He snatches it up and starts reading, still standing in the doorway, Aziraphale behind him. He stays rooted to the spot as he reads the whole thing, growing more and more angry by the second. As he finishes reading he balls up the paper and throws it across the room a loud “Fuck!” escaping as he does so. He feels a hand on his shoulder and suddenly, Aziraphale is guiding him inside to sit on the bed. Once Crowley is positioned, he goes back to the door to close and lock it.

Crowley is so full of rage in this moment and the last thing he wants is to take it out on Aziraphale but he also doesn't want to be alone. He finally focuses enough to notice Aziraphale is kneeling in front of him now and holding his hands in his. 

“Are you alright, Crowley?” He just shakes his head. He goes to rub his eyes, letting go of Aziraphale, and remembers he still hasn't taken off his glasses. He throws them to the side, and flops back against the bed with a heavy sigh.

“My landlord is selling the property. I have to be out in a week.” He should tell Aziraphale to leave. This isn't his problem. 

He looks up and notices Aziraphale is standing now, wringing his hands in front of him and pacing in a small circle.

“I, erm, well, this may be a little forward of me, but if you need a place, my roommate is moving out on Sunday and you're welcome to have their old room. That is, if you want. You don't have to of course, but it seems rather fortuitous that this all happened at the same time. But again if-”

Before Crowley can stop himself and do the sensible thing of turning him down, he's leapt off the bed and giving Aziraphale a tight hug and thanking him. Accepting his invitation to move in with him. 

“Thank you! This helps a lot! Thank you!” He's practically in tears from the emotional whiplash he's experienced in the last 10 minutes. He knows this is a bad idea, he knows he shouldn't have said yes, but that is a problem for future Crowley. Currently, all he can focus on is the sense of relief and excitement at the idea of living with Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale hugs him back after a moment, obviously startled by his reaction. But as he feels those strong arms wrap around him and Aziraphale whisper soothing words into his hair Crowley thinks, this is heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, really sorry for the month long wait. I've never written anything like this before and it really started to kick my ass. Thank you for reading though! It's always appreciated! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things progress quickly for our ineffable duo, but not without some confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, things are about to get pretty intense.
> 
> CW: Past child abuse discussed  
>  Past sexual assault discussed  
>  Panic Attacks

_**I WANNA KICK IT OUT!** _

Crowley woke up suddenly and went to go through his daily struggle of looking for his phone when he noticed it was right beside his pillow and there was an angel to his right. 

After he had finally let go of the most incredible hug he had ever received the night before, they had sat on the bed and talked and smoked late into the night until they had both passed out on top of the sheets. Crowley figured he should be much colder than he was but Aziraphale was pressed up against him, a sturdy arm thrown over his chest. 

Crowley silenced his phone and was amazed it hadn't woken Aziraphale up. He was glad, it gave him a moment to press his face in downy soft curls and revel in the fact that they were just as soft as he had imagined. He knew he had to get up for work, but Aziraphale looked so peaceful beside him that the thought of waking him became impossible. 

_Wake him up! Get him out! This is moving too fast! Protect yourself, you fucking idiot!_

Crowley decided to only listen to some of that as he gently shook Aziraphale's shoulder to wake him. 

“Mornin' angel!” He said softly, pulling away slightly, which only caused Aziraphale to cling to him a little tighter. Crowley couldn't stop himself from smiling at that.

“What time is it?” He heard the blond grumble.

“Six in the morning. We gotta get up for work.”

“Do we have to?”

Again, Crowley made a rash and probably stupid decision. 

“Y'know what? No, we don't. We can just call in sick!” He said brightly, like it was the best idea in the world. This caused Aziraphale to sit up, now fully awake and look wide- eyed at Crowley.

“We can't just call in sick! It's only my second week on the phones!” He started wringing his hands in front of him again. Crowley was learning it must be a nervous tick of his.

“Why not?” He drawled. “We get ten sick days per calendar year! I haven't used any of mine, and there's only two months left and then they'll re- set! We can do anything we want! Come on, angel! Live a little!” He threw his hands up in the air and put on his most shit- eating grin.

“I live plenty, thank you.” Aziraphale was still fidgeting, but Crowley could tell he was wearing him down.

“Sure, sure. We can always pick up an extra shift another time, and at the rate it's been going we probably would have been sent home early anyways! Really, we're saving them some money! Doing the right thing!” He finished with a flourish. Aziraphale still looked apprehensive and he was starting to wonder if he was coming off too clingy and needy. 

_You always do this! You push too hard! If he wants to go to work, go to fucking work! SLOW DOWN!_

“Or, uh, not. We could just go to work, whatever.... Ngk.” He looked away and went to get off the bed, when he felt Aziraphale touch his forearm. The warmth from his hand shooting through the rest of his body.

“No, we'll call in sick. I think I'd much prefer spending the day with you, my dear.” Aziraphale was giving him the most kind and sincere smile Crowley thought he may have ever been on the receiving end of. All the anxiety and panic that had started to set in melted away almost immediately. 

“Great!” Realizing he was being a bad host, he jumped off the bed and headed over to the tiny kitchenette. He didn't have much, but figured he should probably offer his- friend? Were they still just friends? That was a conversation for later. First, breakfast! He started rummaging through his cabinets and found a loaf of bread, that was thankfully not expired. “I've got bread, and some jam in the fridge I think. I've also got some tea bags, but no milk or sugar if you need it, sorry. Oh!” Aziraphale was beside him, once more placing a calming hand on him, this time between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you, Crowley, that's very sweet of you. Do you mind if I use your washroom?” He said, rather sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah! Jus' through that door there!” He pointed to the door to the right of his bed. 

“Back in a jiffy!” And he was gone again. Giving Crowley a perfect opportunity to call in to work and overthink everything that had happened so far. He threw a couple slices of bread in the toaster, started a pot of water boiling on the stove top then started pacing in the tiny kitchen. He really only had enough room to take three steps in either direction, but he never let that stop him.

_He offered you a place to live. He wants to spend the day with you._

_Why?_

_Maybe he likes you?_

_He barely knows me, so that seems incredibly unlikely._

_Still possible._

_Just be careful!_

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door opening and Aziraphale joining him once again in the kitchen. 

“I got some toast started and a pot boiling for tea. Don't have a kettle or anythin', hope that's alright?” Crowley said as he hopped up onto the counter to give Aziraphale more room. 

“Boiled water is still boiled water, regardless of the container it's boiled in.” Aziraphale chuckled.

Just then the toast popped and the water was ready. He got off the counter so there was room to prepare everything. When they were done, they went over to sit back down on the bed to eat. An uncomfortable silence settled over them while they started nibbling at their toast. Once again, Aziraphale was the one to speak up.

“You had mentioned yesterday you moved around a lot growing up? Do you mind if I ask why?”

“Dad was in the army, so we got posted a lot.” Crowley did mind. This was one of his least favourite topics of conversation. Very few people knew anything about his past. Bringing up those memories were always painful and he had worked very hard to bury them. Very deep. Then salted the earth. But something made him want to share with the beautiful angel across from him. “It was tough. Hard to make friends, y'know? As soon as you started getting close with anyone they would just move away. Or you would move away, and have to start all over again. He retired in London when I was 16.”

“Oh dear, I'm so sorry. That must have been very difficult for you.” Crowley could see the sympathy in his eyes. He hated sympathy, it was always so fake. Aziraphale seemed sincere though, so he kept going.

“It's hard on all of us. There are things about being an army brat I wouldn't trade for the world, and some kids have a much easier time with it.” He sighed, not fully ready to dig in to that old wound, but if he wanted to continue whatever- this- was, it was better to get it all out in the open sooner rather than later. He gathered up whatever courage he had left and continued, “Look, I don't know what this is, but I'm not okay. I don't know if I'll ever be okay. I am broken and carrying around a lot of baggage. You seem like a very nice person, but I'll understand if it's too much for you. If I'm too much for you. I usually am.” He could tell Aziraphale wanted to say something so he held up his hand to stop him. “I know what you're going to say. You're going to tell me it's alright, and nothing I could tell you could stop you from wanting to continue being around me. But it always does. I've heard those empty platitudes plenty of times and it always ends the same way. I'm too desperate, too clingy, too emotional, too sensitive, too weird and too fucked up. So I'm going to give you the bullet points version of my life and if you still want... to be my friend afterwards, that's great, but I'll understand if you don't.”

His cheeks felt wet and realized that he had started softly crying.

_Shut up shut up shut up!!!!!_

_Tell him this was a mistake! Tell him to go home! You can quit the call center and never see him again! It's so easy!_

_STOP!_

_YOU FUCKING IDIOT!_

_YOU'RE GETTING IN TOO DEEP!_

_IF YOU TELL HIM HE'LL LEAVE!_

_...maybe that's for the best..._

Aziraphale was sitting quietly, toast and tea forgotten. His eyes were soft as he watched Crowley struggling, unsure how to comfort him. “I'm listening, my dear.”

Crowley pulled himself together enough to continue. “I'm the oldest of two, and was always a disappointment. I'm the only one in my family with coloboma or eyes this colour.” He waves a hand lazily toward his face. “My parents never went to church, but they were religious. They thought churches were ostentatious and that God was everywhere so you could prove your faith without going to a specific building. Unfortunately, that meant to them, I was a demon. I don't think they ever really thought I was an actual, real life demon, but that became my 'nickname' I guess you could say. They got pregnant again not long after I was born, hoping for a child that wasn't a freak. Lucky for her she turned out normal. They tended to leave me out of things a lot. Afraid of what others would say. When I realized that I was sensitive to light because of my eyes, they spent years telling me I was overreacting and to stop whining like a two year old. 'Suck it up, buttercup!' When I started high school though, it started getting really bad and they had no choice but to take me to an optometrist. I got my prescription sunglasses when I was 15. Haven't been able to replace them since.” He took a deep breath and continued, getting to the worse part. “It wasn't all verbal abuse and neglect though. Around the same time, I finally told my parents about my Grandfather. We didn't see my Dad's parents very often since him and my Dad didn't get along very well, but we usually spent a week with them every summer. Sometimes, I was left alone with him and...” He couldn't help but start crying again. He had never spoken about this with anyone other then his mother in ten years. And that had been a disaster. “And he took advantage of me. He never... there was never any... but-” He broke down completely at that, and could no longer form the words. Before he could protest, Aziraphale was gently pulling him into his lap and holding him tight to his chest, rubbing his hand up and down Crowley's back. 

“It's okay, I've got you dear. I understand.” He said quietly. One hand on Crowley's back, the other petting the short hairs at the back of his neck. They stayed like this for a while. Aziraphale delicately rocking them while Crowley slowly calmed down. Eventually, he pulled away and rubbed his face on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Sorry.” He said weakly, refusing to look directly at the man who had just brought him back from what was surely to be a proper panic attack. We he did finally glance at him, he just seemed utterly confused.

“Why are you apologizing, dear boy?” He was shocked someone would apologize for experiencing something traumatic.

“Because I just dumped a bunch of my trauma all over you and got your shirt wet with my tears and forced you to take care of me while I had a breakdown about it. Apologizing for being me, I guess.” He mumbled, head down, staring at his hands while he picked at his cuticles.

“Unacceptable!” Aziraphale said sharply, and when Crowley looked back up at him he could see the anger there.

_There it is. It's over._

“I will not have you apologizing for things that are beyond your control! You have experienced some fairly severe trauma, and expressing your emotions about it is not only necessary but good for you!” He said sternly. “And whoever made you feel guilty for that is, well, a right twat!”

Crowley let out a shocked laugh at hearing his angel swear.

“Well it's true.” He huffed. His tone softened then and he continued, “Crowley, dear, I am so, so, sorry. You've been through hell and it sounds like you've never had the support or love you deserve.” He reached out and held Crowley's hands in his. “But you are not alone. Not anymore. Like you said, we don't know each other very well, not yet, but there's something about you that makes me want to. I want to know you, Crowley. In every way you'll let me.” 

There is an earnestness there that Crowley can barely comprehend. He feels like he's going to explode. Like a warm, golden light is filling him from the inside with the promise of unconditional love. Before all of it can fully process he realized that it's a fight or flight moment, and he decided, right then and there, with no more hesitation, that he will fight for this. For Aziraphale.

He notices for the first time how close together they're sitting, such a small distance to close the gap and press his lips to the ones belonging to his beautiful angel. So he does. One hand reaching around to cradle the back of Aziraphale's head, the other against his upper arm. He can feel him pause for a moment, startled by the action, but very quickly relaxes into the kiss. It's gentle, and Crowley can feel his body flood with more of the golden light, leaking out as tears as he allows himself to have this moment. Allows himself to be happy.

Aziraphale pulls him closer, wrapping his arms around the red head's thin waist. He knows they should stop. Crowley is in an extremely vulnerable place and he doesn't want to take advantage, but it feels so right. Unlike any other kiss he'd had before.

It only lasts a moment, before Aziraphale pulls away slightly, Crowley attempting to chase his lips, eyes closed. Neither of them move their hands from where they rest on the other's body, foreheads pressed together, sharing the air between them.

“As much as I would like to continue this, my dear, I was wondering if perhaps I could go home and freshen up first?” He said breathlessly.

“Right, yeah. Um, if you want to leave...” Aziraphale finally opens his eyes to see a dejected look on his... boyfriend's (?) face. 

“Oh my dear, please come with me. I thought we already decided to spend the day together.” He says with a reassuring smile. He tilts Crowley's face up to meet his eyes. “I'm not leaving you.”

“I believe you.” Against his better judgment, he does. “I'll just um, get ready and we can head over?”

“Perfect!” He leans forward to give him another chaste kiss before the lanky, jumble of limbs that is Crowley gets up and grabs the plastic shopping bag that had been sitting on the dresser and goes to bathroom. 

In the meantime, Aziraphale checks his phone and notices he has multiple missed calls and texts from Anathema. He ignores them for now to make a call in to work, letting them know he won't be in today. Instead of responding to her texts, he opts to call her. She picks up before the first ring even finishes.

_**“Where have you been?! I've been worried about you! How is your car here but you're not?!”** _

“I am a grown man, Anathema. I'm allowed to spend the night out if I want to.” 

_**“You could have at least let me know! Tracey was this close to calling the police and reporting you missing! You never do stuff like this! Ever! What is going on?!”** _

“I am perfectly safe and I'll be home shortly. So everyone can calm down.”

_**“Fine, but you owe us an explanation when you get here!”** _

“Oh, I think the explanation will be rather obvious.” He said with a slight smirk and a little wiggle before hanging up. 

He scooted up the bed so he could lean back against the wall and go over all the events of the last 24 hours.

His initial plan was to see if Crowley wanted to grab drinks sometime this week. Then, he was presented a perfect opportunity when Cheryl had come around offering VTO right as Crowley was finishing up for the day. All he wanted to do was show Crowley he could be a good friend if he would let him. He got the distinct impression that his distant and aloof personality was a defense mechanism and he was determined to prove to him that there were good people in the world. 

Overall, it had gone much better than expected. He hadn't expected to wake snuggled up to him or the kiss that came later. Jeremy had done a number on him that he was still recovering from, but he hoped that maybe Crowley wasn't just acting on impulse and felt something for him too.

When Crowley emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later carrying the plastic bag and clad only in an old towel slung low on his hips, Aziraphale couldn't help the tiny gasp that escaped him. Which only caused that smug smile to appear on Crowley's lips.

“See something you like, angel?” He quirked an eyebrow up at him while he moved to the dresser to get clothes for the day. Aziraphale could not stop staring. Seeing him like this, without the makeup, costumes and stage lighting, water dripping down his broad shoulders over his long, lean torso- he was breathtaking.

“You're gorgeous!” He managed to choke out.

“Nah, jus' skinny, but thanks.” He had all his clothes laid out on the bed now, and looked expectantly at the gaping blond. “Ya gonna turn around?”

“Oh! Yes! Quite right!” And Aziraphale was up, grabbing the plates and mugs they had abandon early and taking them to kitchenette. He kept his back to the bedroom while he rinsed them and set them in the sink. After a moment Crowley let him know it was safe to turn around.

He was still shirtless but he was at least wearing pants now.

_Thank God for small miracles!_

He went and sat timidly on the end of the bed while Crowley finished getting dressed. He couldn't stop staring though. Watching the lithe muscles of his shoulders move while he put on his t-shirt. More quickly than he would have liked though, Crowley was fully dressed and they were getting their coats and shoes on and heading to the bookshop.

Once outside, Aziraphale didn't hesitate to hold Crowley's hand on the brisk walk, keeping his other deep in his pocket. They walked in comfortable silence. Happy to just enjoy walking and sharing time together. 

He stopped on the sidewalk in front of the shop, facing Crowley. He figured he should warn him of what he was about to walk in to.

“I should let you know, Anathema was quite cross with me for not coming home last night, but, ah, there's something else...” He let go of Crowley's hand and started wringing his. “Well, you see, they were quite fond of you and were pressuring me in to asking you out and I hope it isn't to presumptuous of me to assume that we are now dating. So they may be quite excitable when we get in there.”

“Erm, yeah, I mean, I'd like that to be what this is. Is that what this is?” Crowley started chewing on his lips, trying to settle the butterflies who picked that moment to start trying to escape his body by beating their wings rapidly inside his stomach.

“I would like that very much, my dear boy.” He brought his hand up to cup the red head's cheek, who leaned in to it like a cat and pressed a tiny kiss to his wrist.

“Then that's that then!” He said, giving Aziraphale the most honest smile he'd seen from him yet. He wished he could see his eyes in that moment, but he was wearing his sunglasses. He was looking forward to seeing them later. 

“Best get this over with.” He laughed and finally opened the door to the shop. 

Immediately, Anathema, Newt and Tracey were all rushing over to him, all talking at once, asking where he had been and how dare he not let them know he would be out. They were worried sick! But before they could continue fussing over him, they all paused when they saw a shock of bright red hair behind him. He stepped to the side so they could see him properly.

“Hiya! Sorry for keeping him all night, but I think he made it back in one piece! Next time I'll make sure to have him home by curfew!” Despite the shades, everyone could tell he had winked.

“Yes, we had been having a lovely time and didn't want the evening to end and before we knew it, we had fallen asleep! Lost track of time, I suppose. So sorry to worry you all, but everything is alright!” He said brightly, hoping that would put any further questions to rest. “Now, I would very much like to have a shower and change. Are you alright to stay down here, Crowley?”

“Sure! Can't wait to get to know my boyfriend's friends better!” Aziraphale shot him a look that was supposed to be scolding as the other three attempted to pick their jaws up off the floor, but it mostly just came off as amused annoyance. 

“Please go easy on them!” 

“Where's the fun in that, angel?” Crowley's confidence appeared to sky rocket in the last hour and Aziraphale could not be happier. He gave him a quick peck on the cheek and ran up the spiral stairs leading to the flat.

The flat he would be sharing with Crowley.

He could barely contain his excitement while he went about getting ready for the day.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, downstairs, Crowley was sitting in what he would find out later, was Aziraphale's usual chair. Tracey fussed about making tea and getting some biscuits together while Newt and Anathema sat on the couch. Newt seemed fine, but Anathema had fixed him with a look Crowley couldn't figure out. 

“It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Crowley! I've heard so much about you!” Tracey began, sensing the slightly tense atmosphere of the room.

“Yeah, same!” He said awkwardly as he internally fought with himself to remain sitting properly in the chair.

“Let's cut to the chase.” Anathema's tone was firm and authoritative. “We like you Crowley, we think you'll be good for Aziraphale, but if you hurt him, I swear to goddess you'll have a lot of people looking to put your head on a pike. Do you understand?”

“Trust me, if I ever hurt him I'll be wanting to put my own head on a pike. That's a promise.” He was serious. The idea of hurting his angel made him want to run away right then, but he was in too far now. Running away would just cause them both pain at this point. 

_You better hope this is worth it. So desperate for affection and companionship you're willing to destroy an angel to get it. What a selfish asshole you are. He'll figure out eventually. Then where will you be? Alone again with even more damage. Do you think you'll be able to pick yourself back up this time? Indulging in this is just signing yourself up for an early grave. You're twenty five now. You never expected to live this long anyways, maybe dying at the hands of an angel is a rather fitting way to go..._

There were people in the room talking. He thought maybe they were talking to him but he couldn't concentrate. He noticed his hands were starting to shake.

_Can't even have tea with his friends. How pathetic._

“Erm, washroom?” He asked quietly, hoping someone would just point him in the right direction. Instead he could feel three pairs of eyes watching him. He wanted to hide.

“Just around there corner there, love.” He could hear the concern in Tracey's voice and it made his skin crawl. He got up shakily and made his way to the washroom without looking up. Once inside, he closed and locked the door. He collapsed to the floor on his side, fingers digging in to the back of his neck.

_Look at what you've done. You've ruined everything! They're going to tell Aziraphale how weak you are and how uncomfortable you made everyone. You haven't even told him everything yet! What makes you think he'll accept the rest just because he accepted the little bit you told him? They're probably laughing at you out there. You can't do anything right. Just fucking up one thing after another. All they did was do what close friends do, right? Protecting their friend, but you had to go and have a fucking breakdown like a fucking child! And now you're crying again. Of course you are! Why wouldn't you be? All you do is cry!_

_Why would someone want to be with someone like you? Someone whose more trouble and work than their worth._

He couldn't stop it. The thoughts, the crying, the pain he was causing on his neck. So he just laid there, hoping they would forget about him and he could sneak out later when they weren't paying attention. 

___________________________________________________________________________________

When Aziraphale made his way down the stairs after his shower, he came down to hushed voices coming from the back room. When he approached, everyone turned to look at him, eyes full of worry.

“Where's Crowley?” He asked tentatively.

Newt stepped forward.

“We were just chatting when we noticed him go kind of pale and shakey. He went to the washroom 15 minutes ago and we haven't seen him since.”

Aziraphale was very concerned. After his breakdown this morning, he gathered Crowley might be prone to panic attacks. So he rushed out of the backroom and knocked softly on the bathroom door.

“Crowley, my dear? Are you okay?”

Silence.

“I'm going to come in, alright?” He figured the door would be locked, but with keys to the shop and the flat he also got the keys to every other door that locked in the building. He pulled them out of his pocket, and once unlocked, he slowly opened the door. 

What he saw when he did, broke his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, guys! Crowley has had a pretty tough life and dealing with some mental health issues he has yet to get diagnosed, but there will be a happy ending! I promise!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale continues to help Crowley see his worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: References to self- harm  
>  References to sex work

Crowley knew he had gone to the washroom. Logically, he knew he was laying on the floor, but he felt like he was falling. Spiraling in the memories and words he couldn't block out. He couldn't breathe, so he just closed his eyes tight and hoped that maybe he might finally hit rock bottom.

At some point, he knew the door had opened but he was still stuck. He was trapped in a free- fall that would never end. 

He felt something press against his lips. Hard plastic that he recognized was his inhaler through the fog. He thought he could hear Aziraphale's voice, urging him to take a deep breath in, so he did. He immediately felt his lungs start to work a little better, but he still couldn't move. His arms were tense from grabbing at his neck for who knows how long but he couldn't let go. 

He was still falling.

Before he could process anything else, he landed. He landed in soft, sturdy arms under his knees and shoulders, saving him from what was likely to be a bone shattering impact.

He kept his eyes closed but slowly relaxed his arms so he could hold tightly to shirt of the angel holding him. 

___________________________________________________________________________________

Aziraphale didn't know what to do. He had always been the one his friends would go to when they needed help. He had been there for Newt when he was finally diagnosed with General Anxiety in university and had seen his little sister through a lot of pain as well. But he was not prepared for this. When he saw Crowley gasping for breath on the floor, he had remembered him saying the night before that he had asthma, so he had Anathema get his inhaler from his bag. She left immediately to give them privacy and he appreciated for the millionth time how kind and understanding his friends were. 

He had to get Crowley off the floor, and his hands away from his neck. He could see the little rivulets of blood starting to create a tiny pool on the floor underneath him. So, bad shoulder forgotten, he bent down to pick Crowley up in a sort of bridal carry, lifting with his legs, so he could bring him somewhere more comfortable. 

He had been relieved when Crowley had let go of his neck and clutched at the front of Aziraphale's shirt instead. He looked down and could see the blood on his fingertips staining the front of his shirt. He didn't care. All he could focus on in this moment was helping Crowley. He didn't seem to be present at all, or even aware of what was happening. So he slowly carried him up to his bedroom and crawled up on to the bed, not letting go of the precious man in his arms. He propped himself up against the headboard and had Crowley curled up against him in his lap. Rubbing soothing circles over his back the way he had earlier that morning. 

“It's okay, Crowley. I'm here. I've got you. It's going to be okay.” He whispered, not wanting to startle him. It seemed to bring him back, but not in the way he was hoping. Crowley started shaking with heaving sobs as he pressed his face even tighter into Aziraphale's chest.

“I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!” He choked out, “I can't do this! I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't...” He kept chanting those two words over and over again, slightly muffled through the tears, like a mantra.

“Shh, it's okay. What can't you do, my dear?” Aziraphale didn't want to push him into a conversation, but he also wanted so desperately to get to the bottom of what was causing this panic attack.

“This! I can't do this!” He wailed, “I can't, I can't!” Suddenly, Crowley pushed himself away from Aziraphale and he couldn't help but notice how much he looked like a scared, wounded animal you're trying to help. He knew he had to careful.

He jumped off the bed, looking like he wanted to flee.

“Hey, hey, it's okay.” Aziraphale soothed, “Why do you think you can't?”

“Because I'm a burden!” Crowley yelled. Aziraphale was sure they'd be able to hear him in the bookshop, but he also understood that whatever was going on, Crowley needed to let it out. “You left me alone for five minutes with your friends and I had a full blown panic attack! I got blood on your clothes! Why do you keep saving me?! Why can't you see that I'm not worth it?! Do you just go around looking for sad, pathetic people you can help to make yourself feel better?! To rub it in their faces how much better your life is?! Seriously, what the fuck!?” He collapsed against the wall, knees tucked up to his chest, head in his hands, sobbing.

“First of all, how dare you accuse me of something like that!” Aziraphale knew Crowley needed his compassion, but he couldn't hide how hurt he had been at his accusation. He continued sternly, “Secondly, I reached out to you because you were kind to me. With the exception of what you just said, you have been nothing but kind, charming and intelligent! I couldn't stop thinking about you after the first time we met.” He got off the bed and went to kneel in front of Crowley, he was no longer sobbing, but he still didn't look up. “You are so much more than you know. If I could smite every single person in the world that made you feel like you're a 'burden' I would. In a heartbeat. I wouldn't even hesitate. I get the impression you're not going to believe me, but you deserve to be loved. You deserve happiness. You, as you are, are enough.” His voice softened as he placed a tentative hand on Crowley's knee and his own tears started falling. “Please listen when I tell you, I care about you. All of you. And I want to help you through this if you'll let me. Please.” 

Crowley finally looked up to face Aziraphale, confusion written into every line on his face.

“I can't do this to you. I can't make my problems your problems, angel. You deserve someone better. Someone strong like you.” He rasps out, throat raw from yelling and crying.

“You are strong. You wouldn't be sitting here right now if you weren't.” Aziraphale reaches out to cup Crowley's cheek. “Strength isn't about never breaking down and acting like everything is okay all the time. Strength is about breaking down but getting back up. To keep going in spite of everything holding you back.” He tilts his head gently so Crowley can look directly into his eyes. “And you are one of the strongest people I have ever met.”

They sit in silence for a moment while Aziraphale lets Crowley process everything that just happened.

“Thank you, angel. I'm not sure I really believe all that, but thank you.” He sniffles and wipes his nose on the sleeve of his shirt for lack of anything else to use. “No one has ever been this kind to me. Ever.”

Aziraphale's heart breaks again for him. “I meant every word. You're incredible, Crowley.”

That finally gets a small smile out of him and Aziraphale considers it a success. 

“Now, how about we get cleaned up and get some water?” Aziraphale gets up and holds out his hand to help Crowley up as well. When they are both standing, Crowley pulls him into a tight hug, which they stay in for a long while. He waits for Crowley to let go first, to make sure he doesn't think he's pulling away.

“Your friends told you I was in the washroom, huh?” Crowley goes to rub the back of his neck and winces when he remembers the cuts he caused during his panic attack. 

“They were concerned, but it's nothing to be embarrassed about. We all have our own issues, and as you get to know everyone better, I'm sure they'll share their stories with you. Here, let's get those cuts looked after and then we can relax, alright?” Aziraphale grabs his hand and leads him to the washroom in the flat. He motions to him to sit on the edge of the bathtub, back to him so he can get a good look.

“I, erm, have a bad habit of, uh...” Once again, Crowley seems embarrassed, picking at his cuticles as he sits there patiently. Aziraphale sets about getting the rubbing alcohol, gauze, cotton pads medical tape and polysporin from the medicine cabinet. He figured the area was a little too large for a regular plaster.

“I understand. When you have a panic attack, you have a tendency to press your nails into the back of your neck.” He tips the bottle of rubbing alcohol on a cotton pad and approaches Crowley. “This is going to sting a bit, sorry.” He begins to clean the eight crescent moon shaped marks.

“Tssssssss!” 

“I know dear, I'm sorry, but you were on the bathroom floor and although they aren't too deep, you did puncture the skin and I would hate for you to get an infection.” He finishes out with the rubbing alcohol and starts applying the polysporin. “This should feel better.”

“S'alright. I just usually do this myself.” He continues picking at his cuticles. Aziraphale notices for the first time how rough they look. Like he picks, rips and bites into them until they're bleeding. He files that away as a discussion for later. He picks up the gauze and medical tape and applies it to Crowley's neck.

“All finished! But we'll probably want to air out a little later.” He presses a kiss into the shock of red hair and steps back. Giving Crowley room to turn around.

“Thanks, again, angel. Feel like I'm going to be saying that a lot.” He lets out a soft chuckle, but it almost feels forced. Aziraphale notices how often he's been using that nickname for him.

“Why do you keep calling me angel? I don't mind, I was just curious.” He leans against the bathroom sink, waiting for Crowley's response.

He looks a little shy for a moment, then quietly mumbles, “Because you keep looking out for me, like a guardian angel. Not to mention you sorta look like one too. Y'know, with the hair and...” He waves his hand towards Aziraphale.

It takes a moment, but then they're both laughing freely. Both feeling like they can finally, fully relax.

“It's a pretty astute observation. My mother named me after an angel in a book she had read while pregnant.” He gives Crowley a small smile, “My biological Dad left during that time, so there was no one there to tell her that maybe Aziraphale Zachariah Fell might be a bit of a mouthful. On the bright side, it did inspire my tattoo!” He perks up at that and pulls up the right sleeve of his jumper to show Crowley. He reaches out and traces a long, knobby finger on the black and grey flames encircling the blade.

“It suits you.” He says, voice tight. Once again, they are sharing a very small space, Aziraphale could lean forward, kiss him soundly and drag him to the bedroom. Instead, he gives Crowley a soft kiss on his cheek and leads him out to the kitchen.

Crowley takes a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island while Aziraphale gets them some glasses of water.

“So this is the flat, then?” He looks around, taking it all in. It's not small, but it's not spacious either. Every wall covered in bookshelves or art Crowley can only assume was purchased directly from the artists. In between the shelves and art, the walls was a surprisingly comforting beige, which went well with all the warm toned woods. None of the furniture matched, which just added to the charm of the whole place. He noticed, that although there was the space, there was no dining table. “No dining table?” He added out loud.

“No, unfortunately. One of the few things no one was giving away for free.” He walked over to the couch and motioned to Crowley to follow him.

“Free?”

“Remember how I mentioned I worked as a mover when I was saving up for uni?” He sat on the right while Crowley joined him on the left. “A lot of people throw out perfectly good furniture when they move and since I had a moving truck at my disposal I would just collect up bits and pieces until I had enough to furnish a flat. Not long after, Madame Tracey offered me this place and it all worked out perfectly!” 

“That's pretty lucky! Must have someone looking out for you!” He winked at Aziraphale, but started to notice the headache from his panic attacks was settling in. “Could I bother you for a pain killer?”

“Oh! Yes! Absolutely!” Aziraphale jumped up off the couch and set his glass down on the coffee table. Crowley couldn't help but notice the way he winced when he did that. Then he was off, closing the blinds to the window beside the door that Crowley assumed led outside, the blinds on window over the kitchen sink, and then he was scurrying off the washroom. He was back a second later.

“Here you are dear!” He handed him two tablets and Crowley noticed that he had two for himself. They both quickly took the pills.

“Is your shoulder okay?”

“Oh, that's just an old injury, bothers me from time to time, but it's alright.” Aziraphale rolls his left shoulder a few times.

“I can help, if you want...” Crowley shifted a little a little closer. “I've got pretty strong hands...”

“That would be lovely! Thank you!” Aziraphale gives a delighted little wiggle. 

“If you could sit on the floor and uh... take off your shirt... please...” He was a little nervous, he hadn't seen Aziraphale without a shirt yet and suddenly he realized how much he wanted to.

Aziraphale looked down and played with the hem of his jumper a bit before he responded, “Yes, that would be fine. Do you, ah, mind if I keep my vest on though?”

“Sure thing, angel!” He slides over so he's more centered on the couch while Aziraphale positions himself on the floor between his knees. He pulls off his jumper and folds it neatly on the coffee table in front of him.

Crowley is taken aback by the strong muscles underneath the soft exterior in front of him. He rubs his hands together- buying time- but also warming them before he gets to work. He starts by rubbing his thumbs up the back of his neck into his hair line, which elicits a soft moan from Aziraphale. He can't believe how warm he is, which is nice, since Crowley is always cold.

“Is the pressure okay?”

“It's marvelous dear!” He sighs and leans back a little further towards Crowley.

He slowly works the muscles in his neck which were surprisingly tight before moving to the tops of his shoulders. The left was obviously much tighter so he took the time to pinch and squeeze the knots as he found them, occasionally earning a little hum of approval. 

By the time he got to the shoulder blades he could tell where the real problem was. The tension under the left one was so tight it was practically hard.

“This might hurt a little, angel. So tell me if it's too much.”

“Will do, dear.”

He gets to work, pressing his knuckles into the muscle and kneading hard. He works at it for a while, alternating between pinching and rubbing. Working it until he feels it soften up underneath his hands and the skin is red and irritated. It looks angry, but he knows by how it feels that he's done his job.

“Is that better?” He says as he moves his hands up to work through the gorgeous white curls.

“It's fantastic, darling! Thank you so much!” He leans his head back onto Crowley's lap, eyes closed, while he keeps playing with his hair and scratching his scalp.

“I know we only met five days ago, but it somehow feels longer than that, y'know? And I know I've already had two panic panic attacks today, but something in my body keeps telling me this is right. I mean, my mind is still telling me to run away and this is all going to go down in flames, but for the first time in, I don't know how long, I don't want to. Does any of that make sense?” He's not sure what possessed him to be so open in that moment, why he just blurted all that out, but he somehow knew it would be okay.

“I understand. Not about the running away, but how it feels right. How it feels meant to be.” He smiles up at Crowley, “I never would have thought of myself as a romantic before, but your certainly bringing it out in me!” Aziraphale never wanted to leave this moment, but he did remember his friends downstairs had been worried, and it would probably be a good idea to go down and let them know everything was alright.

“As much as I could do this all day, my dear, would you want to go downstairs with me?” He sat up so he could face Crowley directly, “I don't want to push you to do anything faster than you're comfortable, but I'm sure they would like to know you're okay. If you want I can just go down, or... Well, it's up to you I suppose.” He knew he was rambling so he stopped and focused on putting his jumper back on and sitting on the couch with Crowley.

“Erm, yeah, I guess that would be fine. I feel like I made a fool out of myself though. They probably think I'm an idiot.” Crowley started picking at his cuticles again.

Aziraphale reached out and caught both his hands in his, not wanting to see him cause himself any more pain.

“It's more than alright, I promise. Do you trust me?”

Crowley faltered for a moment before looking directly into the swirling multi- coloured pools of Aziraphale's eyes. “Yes.” He breathed out.

“Then trust me when I tell you they will all be extremely understanding. They are good people, I promise.” He said gently.

“Okay then.” He trusted Aziraphale, and had a feeling he wouldn't surround himself with cruel people.

They got up, and went down the stairs to the bookshop. When they rounded the corner to the back room, everyone was sitting exactly where they had been before. Crowley could feel his anxiety start to spike and remembered the breathing he had done with Aziraphale earlier to calm himself.

“Hello again, everyone!” Aziraphale said brightly and sat down in the chair Crowley had been in earlier. He patted his lap, indicating to Crowley to join him. He felt a little silly, but couldn't help himself from smiling as he took his seat on the strong thighs of his boyfriend.

_You have a boyfriend! And he hasn't run away yet! It might just be okay!_

“Would you like a fresh cup of tea? There are some nibbles on the coffee table if you like!” Madame Tracey motioned to the biscuits he had seen earlier, and it appeared as though she had added some tiny sandwiches to the mix.

“Uh, yeah, thanks!” He said as he reached over and grabbed a sandwich for himself and a couple biscuits for Aziraphale.

“Thank you, dear.” He said as he took the biscuits from Crowley and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Okay, if this is how it's going to be, I regret ever convincing you to ask him out!” Anathema cackled, noticing the energy in the room and calmed down, just to get elbowed by Newt.

“Be nice! You know how hard it can be!” He admonished, before turning back to Crowley. “I struggle with pretty bad anxiety, myself. In uni, Az helped me get a diagnosis and saw me through trying a bunch of different medications before we figured out what works. Now I only have to take them when I feel an attack coming on or I know I'm going to be doing something especially stressful. Ana here has seen me through some pretty rough times when I wasn't able to take one fast enough. We understand, and if you need to talk, I'm always available, and I actually mean that. You still have my number, right?”

Crowley was shocked. He knew from the moment he met Newt that he seemed the twitchy type, but hadn't expected him to be so honest so quickly. 

Madame Tracey placed his and Aziraphale's fresh teas on the table next to the chair they were in and took her seat again.

“I appreciate that, thanks.” He figured if Newt could be honest with him, maybe he should be honest with them. “Sorry, about earlier. I uh, never really had friends before. I mean, like, I've had friends but I have trouble maintaining friendships. So sitting here with you guys earlier was a bit overwhelming.”

“It's fine!” Anathema waved her hand through the air, like what happened was no big deal. “We get it! You're one of us now, and we are a protective bunch!” 

Crowley didn't doubt that for a second.

“Thanks, again. For everything.” He said shyly, and tightened the grip he had around his angel's shoulders a bit.

“Besides, I'm sure I could tell you some pretty shocking stories myself!” Madame Tracey offered and everyone burst out laughing as she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“Don't even get her started!” Aziraphale cried out, “She is deplorable, that one!”

“Only because you refuse to take my advice, dear!” She winked at him and took a sip of her tea.

“I can't wait to hear these stories!” He was seriously curious as to what they could be.

“You should tell him about the diaper guy!” Anathema said through her laughter.

“Okay, I really need to hear that one!” Crowley said in genuine excitement.

“You've done it now!” Aziraphale groaned and buried his head in Crowley's shoulder.

“Well, nothing seemed that odd at first...” 

They ended up spending the rest of the afternoon in the backroom of the bookshop listening to Madam Tracey's stories of her previous employment, Crowley sharing a few of his own from the club and the cam shows he occasionally did as well. It felt good to be around people who didn't look down on him for being a sex- worker. He wondered if this is what it felt like to belong to a community.

Eventually though, it was time to close the bookshop for the day.

“Alright, dearies. I'm off! Try not to burn the place down while I'm gone!” Madame Tracey said with a wink and a flourish as she left.

“We promise nothing!” Anathema yelled out, defiantly, which led to another bout of giggles.

Crowley couldn't remember having had a better day, probably ever, in his life. Somehow, in the course of a weekend he managed to get a boyfriend, a new apartment and friends who seemed to accept him for who he was and expected nothing in return.

_It's going too well. You know what happens next._

He knew that voice wouldn't go away overnight, and there were likely to be quite a few rough times ahead, but in another first, he told that voice to fuck off.

They were all standing near the very old fashioned cash register while Newt did the closing duties.

“What do you guys think about making crepes tonight and watching some terrible period films?” Aziraphale asked.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea!” Crowley could not believe how lucky and how full of love he was for the soft angel to his right. 

_You might just be okay..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!? Only a week after the last one!? Crazy, right?!  
> Thank you to everyone who has been commenting and supporting this silly little fic. I really appreciate your continued support! You're all wonderful! Also, if anyone knows how to get a beta reader, please let me know!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and his friends go see Crowley dance again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Drinking  
> Smoking  
> Discussions of recreational drug use  
> Stripping  
> Reference to mental health disorders and shitty doctors

The crepes had been a disaster, so they had settled on spaghetti, which was significantly less work. They ate in the living room, but instead of sitting around the coffee table they took up places on the chairs and couch and watched a movie. Crowley felt wonderful, basking in the feeling of camaraderie that came from cooking and laughing at a terrible movie with friends. He didn't want to go home that night, but he also knew he had to go to work the next day. He didn't mind the biting cold as he walked, still feeling the warmth of Aziraphale's parting embrace surrounding him, making him feel like something precious. He also had the morning to look forward to. Aziraphale had offered to give him a ride to work, even though he didn't start for another two hours after Crowley did.

“I can sit in the cafeteria and read! It's no problem at all, dear!” He had promised.

Crowley had wondered if every morning would be like this once they moved in together. He didn't have to wait for an answer to that, as Aziraphale ended up driving him in every morning for the rest of the week. He also would bring lunch for him, since he had noticed how little Crowley ate. He really appreciated that since it helped him get through his days a little easier. Starting the day with coffee and a kiss, a lunch he actually looked forward to eating and knowing smiles as he left. He couldn't stop the dumb grin plastered to his face on the bus rides home and he was sure he was getting funny looks from the other passengers. He just didn't care.

When Aziraphale picked him up on Friday, he couldn't wait to invite him to see him dance again.

They had talked the previous day about the cam shows Crowley would occasionally do, and Aziraphale had assured him it didn't bother him in the slightest. But Crowley had decided that he while he didn't want to give up dancing, he no longer felt the same way about sharing such an intimate part of himself with anyone else. Maybe in a few months he might feel differently, but right now, his angel was the only one he wanted to share that with.

He slid into the passenger seat and leaned over to give the adorable blond a kiss on the cheek.

“Mornin', angel!”

“Good morning, dear!” He pulled away from the curb and started off towards work, In Flames playing softly from the stereo, two coffees taking up residence in both the cup holders between them, in travel mugs.

“I don't know if it's that I've been drinking too much of the awful work coffee or that it's being delivered by angel, but this is the best coffee I've ever had!” Crowley took a sip of the hot liquid and let it warm him from the inside out. “Can't think of better way to start the day!”

“I've never been much of a coffee drinker myself, but Ana gets it from a vendor she says sources their beans sustainably, so I'll be sure to let her know you approve!” Aziraphale chuckled and slid a hand over to squeeze Crowley's knee before placing it back on the wheel.

“Please do! And er, speaking of your friends, I was wondering if you guys wanted to come to the club again tonight?” He was scared Aziraphale might say no, that it was weird, that maybe he didn't want his friends to watch his boyfriend strip. Instead, he smiled wide and did that cute little wiggle Crowley loved.

“We would love to, dear! I hope you don't mind, but I had already invited the whole group last night, and Madame Tracey will be joining us this time!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh! Uh, yeah! That's great! Thanks, angel! I've got some pretty good sets planned tonight!” He wiggled his eyebrows and gave him a very mischievous smirk, plans already forming in his head.

“I can hardly wait! After seeing you perform last weekend, I was really hoping to see it again!”

“I was that good, huh?” He said playfully.

“You know you were.” Aziraphale teased. They moved on to different topics and by the time they pulled into the car park of the huge, dreary building they were both laughing.

“Guess I should go in and get started. Also, I get to the club pretty early, and I have a lot of prep to do, so if it's as busy as it's been all week I won't really get to talk to you until after my first performance. Is that alright? And is it still okay for me to stay over tonight?” He was picking at his cuticles again, not wanting to get out of the car.

“Absolutely, my dear!” He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Crowley's lips before pulling away, “Mind how you go!”

With that, Crowley reluctantly got out and made his way to their shared cubicle. He looked at Aziraphale's chair and smiled to himself, knowing that in two hours, even if they couldn't talk, he could always look over and see that beautiful face.

Before he logged on, he shot Michael a text asking if she could reserve a table by the front of the stage for seven and that he wouldn't be doing private dances. He also sent off a text to Anathema as well to let her know he was involving her and Newt in his first performance and by lunch he had confirmation that it was all ready to go. When he finally had to leave to go get ready he was practically vibrating with excitement! 

He knew one of his previous doctors- what was his name? Karl? Kalarjian? Something like that- Would call this a manic episode. Right now, he couldn't care. He was happier than he'd been in a long time and was willing to ride it out as long as possible. He knew the drop that was most likely coming would be tough, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it. Plus, he probably wasn't even bipolar- or was it borderline personality disorder?- He couldn't remember. One doctor would diagnose him with one thing and the next doctor would diagnose him with something else. There was never any consistency. Which was why he just dealt with it on his own these days. Every time there would be a new doctor, new diagnoses and new medications. All it ever did was make him feel numb, like he was existing in a fog. Nothing hurt anymore, but nothing was fun either. 

His parents had been happy enough the first time. They were pleased that he wasn't asking questions, or causing trouble. Crowley just felt like a zombie. So he stopped taking the pills. Then he ended up in a different hospital, and the whole process started all over again. 

He knew he was getting into a bad headspace so he when he got home he turned up his music as loud as it could go to something high- energy and fun while he got ready. He would not let his broken brain ruin what was shaping up to be an exceptionally enjoyable weekend!

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aziraphale was quite literally shivering with anticipation. They were only a week into dating but he couldn't stop thinking about what the tall, lithe red head would look like in those outfits spread out on his bed, writhing in pleasure as he worshipped him. 

He shook himself out of his daydreams to look in the mirror. He straightened out the dark blue and black flannel shirt he was wearing, with a white t- shirt underneath. He decided to button up today but left the top two buttons undone. He went for some slightly loose fitting dark grey trousers, remembering how uncomfortably tight the pair he wore the previous week had gotten and topped it all off with a denim jacket and his old black chucks. He could hear his friends in the kitchen and figured it was time to join the rest of the party.

He saw them all crowded together around the small kitchen island, apparently waiting for him.

“Ah! Aziraphale! You almost missed the first shots of the night!” Gabriel boomed. Aziraphale hated doing shots of pure alcohol, but his friends always insisted on starting the night out that way. 

Dagon delicately slid a glass over to him as he positioned himself between them and Madame Tracey. He noticed it was a slightly amber coloured liquid this week. He knew what it would be immediately.

“Is this Fireball? Really?”

“Duh! It's been forever!” Dagon drawled.

“Because we aren't 20 anymore! We're closer to 30 now, if I must remind you!” He sighed.

“Please don't!” Dagon whined, “Now! Cheers! To Aziraphale's new man!” They concluded with panache. 

“Cheers!” They all cried and downed their shots.

“Oh my!” Madame Tracey cooed as she gently dabbed at the corner of her lips with a handkerchief, “It's been a long time since I've done shots! And must I remind you, young man,” She turned to Aziraphale, “I've got quite a few decades on you, so quit your bellyaching!” 

Everyone couldn't help but laugh at that. She was right. They knew better than to complain about how old they were getting around Madame Tracey. She didn't malign aging, and was very comfortable in her skin, but no one wanted a lecture on how youth is wasted on the young.

He was moving over to the counter to pour himself a glass of red wine, when he felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. His heart fluttered, hoping it was Crowley. So he poured and stepped out on to the little balcony to have a smoke and respond in private. When he looked at the notification his stomach nearly dropped right out of him. He swiped and read the message anyway, ignoring how it would probably ruin his night.

**Kat: Hey! Are you free this weekend? I really need a place to stay.**

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Willing himself to calm down.

**Aziraphale: What happened?**

**Kat: Todd and I got in a fight and he kicked me out. Please, I wouldn't ask but I don't have any other options. I can stay with Derek tonight, but his girlfriend won't let me stay longer than that.**

**Aziraphale: What about your friends? Courtney? Jess?**

**Kat: They aren't talking to me right now, the fucking cunts.**

_Hmm, I wonder why that would be?_

He couldn't help the sarcastic thought.

**Aziraphale: I'll talk to Ana and let you know.**

**Kat: Great! Also, would you be able to send me $20?**

**Aziraphale: Sure.**

**Kat: You're the best! <3**

Aziraphale drained the rest of his glass and fished out another cigarette. 

He loved his sister, he did. Sometimes it was difficult though. She seemed determine to continue making the same mistakes over and over again. Whether she was expecting a different result each time was a mystery. He didn't want to send her the money. He knew what she would be using it for. But there was always the chance it could be for food, or maybe gas money so someone could drive her here tomorrow since she knew he would say yes. Against his better judgment, he always did. 

He was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, dreading the party tomorrow now, when Dagon threw themselves into the other chair, pulling out a smoke of their own.

“What's got you so glum? Y'gonna see your boyfriend dance all sexy tonight!” They said with far too much enthusiasm for him.

“Kat texted me. She's going to be staying with us this weekend.” He replied flatly. They all knew about Kat, had met her multiple times and they all knew how taxing it was for him to have her around.

“Ugh, really?! But I got MDMA for us! Now we can't do it!” Dagon was pissed. When Kat was around they couldn't do any of the stuff they normally would, since Kat would always take things way too far.

“I know, it's certainly not ideal, but Todd kicked her out.” He leaned over with his elbows on his knees, staring straight out in front of him, “What am I supposed to do? I can't just leave her out on the streets.”

“But how is she going to get better if she keeps thinking everyone is gonna be there to help her every time she fucks up? She needs to hit rock bottom, Az!” It was the same old routine every time. One of them would take turns talking to Aziraphale about how he doesn't need to keep bending over backward for a sister who couldn't even be bothered to say thank you. Dagon was no expert on family dynamics or abuse by a sibling, but they were really starting to think it was getting to that point, if it hadn't already.

“I just wish I could help her. I feel like I've failed.” He looked so small, hunched in on himself, voice soft. 

“You haven't failed, but you also can't help everyone. I know you want to, but it's just not possible. Remember that card that keeps popping up every time you let Ana read your cards? You also have to take care of yourself, or you won't be able to keep taking care of the rest of us.” They nudged his shoulder, and he was grateful it was Dagon out here with him right now. They might be pretty gruff most of the time, but they were sweet occasionally. “Let's go back inside, s'fucking freezing out here!” They hauled him up and they went back inside to break the news to rest of the crew. Everyone was, predictably pissed, but understanding, and decided there was no way in hell they were going to let it ruin their night!

As they piled in to Aziraphale's car a few hours later, he had already sent a text off to Kat letting her know when to come by the next day, and was looking forward to getting to the club. Uriel was driving tonight, which meant Dagon got to choose the music and decided on Spice Girls greatest hits. Which everyone grumbled about, but sang along anyways. When they got the club though, he was surprised by Anathema walking straight up the the bouncer instead of queuing up like the others in line.

“We can't just go in! We have to get in line!” He admonished, and got a sly smile in return.

“You didn't hear? We're V.I.P. Tonight!” She winked at him, and he was a little put out that something was being planned he wasn't told about. 

She led them over to a table right in front of the pole, with a little placard on top declaring it reserved. Curiously, there was also a pair of scissors and a tube of lipstick. She saw the confused look on his face and flashed him a very mischievous grin.

“You'll see!” And with that, she stalked off with Gabriel and Dagon to get drinks while the rest of them got situated around the table.

“Don't worry, I'm just as lost as you are. Ana didn't tell us anything!” Uriel informed him, which made him feel a little better. 

Same as last time, Newt and Aziraphale were abandoned at the table while the others went and danced. Aziraphale thought about joining them, but he didn't want to leave Newt to watch the table on his own and he couldn't help but remember the last time he had danced with Jeremy.

_It's like you have two left feet! And epilepsy! I should have realized you'd be a terrible dancer!_

Aziraphale shook his head, as if that would help that voice disappear. It had been a year. Jeremy wasn't here, and therefore, couldn't ruin this night.

Newt seemed to sense something was wrong though. As he always does.

“It doesn't matter, Az. Whatever you're thinking.”

"Just looking forward to seeing Crowley dance again.” He put on the best smile he could and fell back into comfortable conversation. 

Before long, everyone was crowding back around the table, which meant someone was paying attention to the time, and Crowley would be on stage soon. Sure enough, by the time everyone was seated comfortably, the lights on the stage glowed red and a voice came out over the speakers.

“Everyone, please welcome the ever beautiful, TEMPTRESS!” The voice bellowed, and Crowley was walking out on to the stage in the battle jacket Aziraphale recognized and knee high, black stiletto boots, which were laced up the front. And as far as he could tell, he wasn't wearing anything else. His makeup was dark and intense, except for his lips, which appeared to not have anything on them at all. To finish off the look, he had on a blonde wig, that flowed down his back. It reminded Aziraphale of Bridget Bardot with the fluffy bangs. He also seemed to have clipped in two black devil horns.

Aziraphale recognized the song immediately as the intense drums flooded through the club. The Beautiful People by Marilyn Manson. He was contorting his body down the stage, in a way Aziraphale couldn't even begin to understand. One moment he was on his forearms, legs kicking behind him and then into the splits, he kept doing these contortionist moves until he got the pole and shucked off his jacket to reveal a skin tight latex dress that was barely long enough to not be considered a shirt. He did some twists and turns and splits around the pole until suddenly he was crawling over to kneel on the table he was sitting at. All he could do was stare wide eyed as Anathema took the lipstick off the table and placed it in her cleavage. Crowley bent over to place his face there, doing tiny twists with his head and when he emerged, the deep red colour was perfectly covering his plush lips. Aziraphale couldn't help the gasp that escaped when Crowley looked over and winked at him, then practically slithering back onto the stage and continuing moving around the pole in a way that could only be described as snake- like. Before he knew it, the song had changed to I Fink U Freeky by Die Antwoord. He was moving much more aggressively now, while remaining sexy and alluring. Aziraphale had no idea how he did it. Then he was back on top of their table, pulling Newt up on stage. Newt was blushing, but he picked up the scissors and followed him. Once they were positioned in front of the pole, Crowley guided his hand towards the bottom of the dress and Newt cut upwards, revealing the entirety of his body, clad in nothing but the tiniest latex shorts he had ever seen. Newt retreated back to the table, face bright red, but smiling and Crowley continued his routine. 

When the performance was over all his friends were hooting and hollering, throwing bills up onto the stage. All Aziraphale could do was lean back in his chair and run his hands through his hair, which was most likely a mess by now.

“Need some fresh air?!” Dagon called out to him, over the thumping bass of the music now pumping through the speakers.

“Yes!” He got up slowly, his legs felt like jelly. He was pretty sure he'd never seen anyone so incredibly sexy in his entire life and definitely needed to cool off. Thankful he'd thought to wear looser fitting trousers this time. Madame Tracey and Newt stayed at the table while the rest of them went out to the patio. 

He had barely started his smoke when Crowley sidled up next to him, placing a possessive arm around his waist. He was wearing the outfit he had been wearing on stage and was towering over him.

“Hiya Angel! Enjoy the show?” He bent to place a kiss on his cheek and gave him the most shit- eating grin Aziraphale had ever seen.

“Oh good lord!” He swatted at Crowley's chest, but couldn't help the giggle that came out unbidden. “Audience participation? Really?”

“I've done it before! Just thought it might be a bit more fun with your friends!” 

“And it was! This might become our new Friday nights!” Anathema howled, “That was impressive, by the way! How do you even apply lipstick without looking so perfectly?!”

“Ever seen the Breakfast Club?” The crowd nodded, “Well, looked like fun! And since I don't have cleavage to utilize, had to find some helpful cleavage owning people! Thanks again, by the way!”

“Anytime! More than happy to help! But you owe me!”

Aziraphale groaned, “Oh no, she's going to want to read your cards!”

“And that's a bad thing?”

“No, Aziraphale just doesn't believe in all that stuff!” Gabriel piped up.

“Neither do you!” Aziraphale added.

Gabriel just shrugged, “Yeah, but I humor her. All you do is bitch and moan about it!”

“I do believe in that stuff, so I'd be down, sure!” Crowley supplied with a huge grin. “That shit can be expensive! And now I have my own personal psychic for free!”

“You keep up like that and I'll sic Dagon on you!” Anathema threatened.

“And you won't like thaaaaaat!” Dagon unhelpfully chimed in.

“Alright! Alright! I concede!” Crowley held his hands up in a mock surrender.

Aziraphale could only just watch the scene unfold. Watching Crowley blend in seamlessly with his friends was wonderful. Some of his ex's had found them to be a bit overwhelming and never wanted to do anything with them. This was a very pleasant and welcome change of pace. 

“Well, I gotta be off, get ready for the next show! I'll see you guys later?” He addressed the group as a whole, but turned to Aziraphale after. He pulled Aziraphale tight to him and pressed his lips against the shell of his ear, and in a dark, husky voice, only loud enough for them to hear, “If you think I look good on that stage, imagine how I'll look later.” He pressed a kiss to that sensitive spot just behind his ear and sauntered away, with his patented two- fingered salute.

Aziraphale stood there shell- shocked for a moment before pulling himself together and joining his friends as they filtered back in to the club. They got another round of drinks, and feeling bolstered by the interaction he just had with Crowley, decided to join his friends on the dance floor. Madame Tracey stayed with Newt, saying she wasn't quite as spry as she used to be and Aziraphale let go for the first time in a long time. He just let his body move with the music, unafraid of how he might look, spurred on by the encouragement of his friends. Eventually though, it was time to go back to the table and watch Crowley's last performance of the night. Once again, the stage lights glowed red and the announcer called out his stage name. This time Aziraphale didn't recognize the song, and reminded him to ask Crowley, but it was slow and dreamy, which matched Crowley's new outfit. He had on the same wig from earlier, but his eye makeup was more natural and his lips a soft, pretty pink. Likely to match the light pink floral pattern on his slinky black dress that hung just above his knees. He was also wearing black mary janes, that had a chunky 6 inch heel. He moved much more slowly this time, hooking a leg around the pole, a hand gripping it just above his head and spinning around languidly in time with the music, head tipped back, eyes closed. He continued with sensual, deliberate movements, sliding up the pole and holding his entire body weight with just his ankles. Spinning, running his fingers through the soft blonde wig, up his long, tight body. Near the end of the song, he reached behind him to pull down the zipper on the back of the dress and slowly shrugged it off to reveal pink satin undergarments. Aziraphale couldn't help but long to be the one pulling that zipper down, trailing kisses down the galaxy of his artful back. He had to shake himself out of his thoughts before he missed the next song start. Another one he didn't recognize, but it was lovely and almost felt a little sad. He watched as Crowley continued, moving with a grace Aziraphale didn't think he had ever seen before in his life. But as he watched him closely, through this song, he could swear he almost saw tears prickling at the corners of Crowley's eyes and all lascivious thoughts he had previously been entertaining were wiped away by the need to hold this precious man close and never let go. To remind him constantly how incredible he was, how beautiful and smart and funny he was. When he turned to bow at the end, Aziraphale could see a real flash of vulnerability there and decided to see if there was a way to see Crowley backstage. He needed to comfort him.

He excused himself from the rest of his group and approached the bar where a stern looking woman was cleaning some glasses.

“Excuse me, so sorry to bother you, I'm Crowley's boyfriend-” He stuttered out, but he didn't get a chance to finish.

“I know who you are.” They fixed him with a stern glare, but their expression softened slightly as they looked him over. “Be gentle with him. Sandy will show you where the dressing rooms are.” She whistled loudly to get the attention of a man who reminded Aziraphale a little of Humpty Dumpty, but with a gold tooth. She gestured with her hand something he didn't understand, but the man- Sandy- appeared to and suddenly he was being led back behind the stage into an overly bright dressing room covered in glitter, boas, all manner of high heels and lacy undergarments. There was a crowd of women all huddled together in a corner, appearing to be gossiping and shooting him weird looks. Crowley was knelt on the floor near his station at the mirror that stretched across the entirety of the one wall. He was packing up his stuff for the night it seemed. His sunglasses were back on.

“Darling,” He said softly, approaching Crowley. “You were just marvelous tonight!” 

Crowley looked up at him and Aziraphale could tell his eyes were likely red rimmed.

“Oh dear, are you alright?” He knelt down with Crowley and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah.” He sniffled, “Will be, just haven't danced to that song in a long time, forgot why I stopped doing it.” He wiped under his eyes, trying not to smear his mascara.

“I'll text the crew and let them know we're heading back to the bookshop. I'll get us an Uber, how does that sound?”

Crowley just nodded and started gathering up his bags. Aziraphale grabbed the two heaviest and let Crowley manage the backpack he seemed to take everywhere. He noticed the other dancers watching and shook his head at them while Crowley wasn't looking. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him outside to wait for their ride, which thankfully didn't take long. 

Once they were inside the flat, Aziraphale couldn't help but fret over him. He convinced him to have a shower, even though Crowley didn't want to let go, but Aziraphale reminded him that the longer he put off cleaning up, the longer he'd have to wait for cuddles which did the trick nicely. While Crowley showered, Aziraphale went about making two big mugs of hot cocoa with whipped cream and marshmallows. He placed them on a tray with some chocolate chip cookies Anathema had made recently. He set it on the bed while he got changed into his sleep clothes before settling down on with a book while he waited.

Unfortunately, this time he didn't get to see his bare chest again, as he was already dressed in an old, loose fitting t- shirt that had the arms cut off and black sweat pants. He stood in the doorway awkwardly, not sure if he should join Aziraphale on the bed or not, plastic bag of toiletries in one hand, towel in the other. 

“Um, where should I put this?” He gestured with the towel.

“In the hamper, there!” Aziraphale pointed to the laundry basket beside his dresser and motioned for Crowley to join him.

Once he had divested himself of the bag and towel, he very carefully crawled up on to the bed beside Aziraphale. He didn't want to spill the cocoa. 

“Are you alright dear?” He asked once Crowley was settled with a cookie and cocoa.

“Yeah, just brought up some old memories I thought I'd gotten rid of.” He mumbled in to his mug.

“I understand. Is it something you want to talk about?”

“Maybe, yeah, just not now.” He looked over to Aziraphale, worry and panic projecting from those beautiful golden eyes. “I'm sorry I ruined... this. We can still! If you want! I mean-” He started rambling.

“No no, dear boy, not tonight. You're not ready and the last thing I want is for you to push yourself to do anything you're not comfortable with. Okay?” He placed his hand on Crowley's knee.

Crowley's breath hitched but he nodded. Aziraphale moved the tray to one of the side tables and moved to lean back more against the headboard.

“Come here, darling. Let me hold you.” Crowley placed his mug on the side table and positioned himself between Aziraphale's thighs, laying on his side, pressed into his soft, sturdy chest. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him and brought one hand up to smooth Crowley's miraculously dry hair. They stayed like that for a moment before Crowley reached out a hand to grab the book Aziraphale had left on the bed. 

He looked up to him with pleading eyes. 

“Read to me?”

“Of course my dear, precious Crowley. Whatever you need.” He reached out to take the book and placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head before starting to read.

It didn't take long for Crowley to fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. The voice of his angel guiding him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a heads up, things are going to get pretty intense in terms of discussions of the past and dealing with Aziraphale's sister. We will also be finding out what happened with Beez.  
> The songs for the second performance in order:  
> Just Like Honey- The Jesus and Mary Chain  
> Fade Into You- Mazzy Star  
> I'm not sure if I want to include smut or not, so please let me know if that's something you would be interested in!  
> Thanks again for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Aziraphale's sister Kat, someone shows up from Crowley's past, and we finally get to the Samhain party!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is intense guys! It's also extremely long, so I apologize, there was just a lot of exposition fit in here.  
> I accidentally wrote some smut. These guys just can't keep their hands off each other! If you want to skip it, it starts at the ******** and ends after the *******.
> 
> CW: Drug Use  
> Discussions of Drug Addiction  
> Smoking  
> Discussions of past suicide attempts  
> Abuse by a sibling  
> Referenced past animal death

When Crowley awoke the next morning he found himself cocooned in what he decided were some of the ugliest quilts he had ever seen. But they were comfortable, warm, smelled like his angel and he absolutely did not want to move. He reached over without opening his eyes to snuggle into Aziraphale to find that he wasn't there. He slowly opened his eyes and took in the room he had already seen twice but never really looked at. There were books everywhere, teetering on delicate piles that almost reached the ceiling. The walls were a warm, beige that should have been ugly but somehow just seemed quaint. Just like in the living room, none of the furniture matched either. He found it adorable and so perfectly his angel. 

He very awkwardly untangled himself from the blankets and stretched out his lanky limbs. Feeling very uncoordinated he managed the slide off the bed into a mostly upright position. He could smell coffee wafting from the kitchen and figured he would find Aziraphale standing there in his pajamas, hair all ruffled from sleep. Instead what he found was Anathema, Newt and Gabriel all crowded in the kitchen.

Anathema and Newt appeared to still be wearing their pajamas at least, so Crowley didn't feel too underdressed. Gabriel however was wearing the same pants from the night before (pressed light grey trousers) but now in only a white t- shirt. 

“Crowley! Welcome to the land of the living!” Gabriel spread his arms wide, that obnoxious grin on his face as if welcoming him in to his own grand kitchen.

Anathema wacked his chest with a spatula, “Give him a break! He actually did something last night that would require sleeping so late!”

“So late?” He had forgotten to check the time before he wandered out.

“It's only 11, but Gabriel here likes to get up at the crack of dawn to go jogging, so we all get up late to him!” She groused.

“I can't just skip my morning exercise all together just because I crashed here!” He turned to Crowley, “My body is a temple, and therefore, I must treat it as such!” He seemed beyond pleased with himself for jogging after a night out in dress shoes and suit pants.

Before he could stop himself, “Good for you? D'you want a cookie or somethin'?” came falling out of his mouth. It was too early for things like self- control. 

_Fuck! Why did you say that?! You're such a fucking asshole! You keep those thoughts to yourself!_

Instead of the angry voices telling him to leave he was expecting, Newt and Anathema were howling with laughter. Even Gabriel was smiling, although looking a tad put- out.

Once she had caught her breath, “Holy shit! I knew I liked you! See Gabriel? No one cares!”

He huffed and just went over to couch to put on his dress shirt, waving his hand in the direction of the door that led outside, “He's on the balcony by the way.”

“Right, thanks.” He grabbed his jacket hanging by the door, slipped on his shoes and went to join Aziraphale. Feeling a little off- balance after that bizarre interaction.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_He may not want to move in with you once he meets Kat. What will he think? Of her? Of ME?!_

Aziraphale had been outside for a while thinking over all the variables of what could possibly happen this afternoon. His sister was a bit of a loose canon. He knew she always meant well, but she didn't always seem to remember that her actions affected other people. 

_And with everything he's dealing with? He can't take on her problems too!_

_Who are you to determine what he can handle and what he can't?_

_He's had about 3 breakdowns in the last week! Sure, last nights was fairly minor in comparison, but I think it's safe to say he's maybe a bit delicate and Kat is anything but!_

He just kept going around in circles. Knowing it wasn't right to judge what state Crowley's mental health was in, but he also wanted so desperately to protect him. 

Eventually though, he was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Crowley step out onto the balcony, hair sticking straight up in every direction, backlit by the bright morning sun. It looked like flames, but he knew if he ran his fingers through, it would be so soft.

“'Morning, angel.” He sat down in the chair to Aziraphale's left and lit up a smoke.

“Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock!” He grinned, feeling immensely more comfortable now that he had his angel's calming presence next to him.

“I figured as much, given all the noise those three are making in the kitchen!” He chuckled a bit, and then fell silent. He pulled out a smoke as well, to have something to do with his hands. If he stopped to think about it, he knew he had had too many so far this morning, but he was nervous.

_Just tell him before it's too late!_

His throat felt tight, he didn't want to involve Crowley in this, but he had a right to make up his mind for himself. He swallowed and started, “I, em, er, got a text yesterday. From my sister. She, well, that is to say, she's um, coming to stay with me. With us! I'm not sure how long, but she'll be here in a few hours.”

“Oh...” Crowley looked down and fiddled with a safety pin on his jacket. “Should I go then?” He said quietly.

Aziraphale wasn't sure he understood. “What do you mean, 'go'? Why would you go anywhere?”

Crowley had his sunglasses on, but Aziraphale could still see the furrow in his brow when he looked at him. “You don't want me to leave?”

“Not at all!” He shocked, “Quite the opposite, actually! I wish she wasn't coming at all!”

Crowley was extremely puzzled. “Why is that?” He had initially thought Aziraphale didn't want him to meet his family, than he said he wanted him to stay, but he still didn't want her here?

“Well, because it puts us in a bit of an awkward position, you see. I wasn't sure, first of all, if you wanted to share a bedroom and secondly,” He mumbled in response. “my sister is a bit... much.”

“Angel, I'm a bit much, and I would love to share a bedroom with you! But I can tell there's something you're not telling me.” 

“You're right, I just don't know what to say.” He slumped down in his seat, “She's a good person! I promise! Very creative! But we've never been very close. She's four years younger than me and technically my half- sister. Different dads. Being the older brother you would naturally think that it was always me picking on her but it was actually the opposite. And not always in a normal sibling way. Newt helped me to understand when we got older that she wasn't just teasing and giving me a hard time. She was cruel sometimes.” He stubbed out his forgotten cigarette, folding in a little more on himself and continued, “No one seemed to care. My Mom was wonderful and did everything she could to encourage me and never let me fall into the trappings of toxic masculinity, but when she was still with my step- dad, they both seemed to believe whatever Kat said. I would always get grounded for things she blamed me for. One time she killed my hamster! Stole it's water bottle and hid it! I stayed up all night looking for it and got blamed for it's death. My Mom and I have talked all this out, and now that we're all older, she's seeing how manipulative she can be. We just don't know what to do!” He was exasperated. He threw his hands up before bringing them back to play with the hem of his t- shirt. “There's always some new disaster! She'll come to us crying, begging for help. What are we supposed to do? We can't turn her away! Despite everything we still love her!” He couldn't keep going. Explaining who his sister was and why he was still around for her was exhausting and painful.

Crowley couldn't stand it. Seeing his angel like this. He was everything that was good and beautiful in this world. How could anyone hurt him this much?

He got up and approached Aziraphale, kneeling in front of him. He was bent at the waist, head in his hands. Crowley wrapped his long arms around him and held tightly.

“It's okay, angel. I get it.” He smoothed down the unruly, white blond curls, and pulled away slightly so he could see him. “We'll get through this, yeah? We can do this.” He placed a kiss on his forehead and pulled back again. He gave him a small smile, remembering something Aziraphale had said on Monday, “Do you trust me?”

A weak smile appeared on Aziraphale's face, “Oh course, my dear. More than anything.”

Crowley cradled Aziraphale's face between his long, elegant fingers. “Good.” 

Aziraphale went to lean forward and kiss him, but Crowley pulled back sharply, hand clamping over his mouth. “Fuck! I haven't brushed my teeth yet! And I was just breathing in your face! Sorry!”

This garnered a full, genuine laugh from Aziraphale, “Oh dear boy, I could not give one single fuck what your breath smells like right now!” He got up and pulled Crowley to him swiftly, smashing their mouths together in the first proper kiss they'd had since Monday. Crowley was startled at first, but as he was crowded against the railing of the balcony, he melted in to it. His hands wrapped around Aziraphale's tick waist, pulling him even closer so there was no more space between them. Lips and tongues moving desperately together, tasting each other. Aziraphale's fingers tugged delicately on the short red hair at Crowley's crown to have better access to column of his long, pale throat. Moving to place hot kisses over the expanse of freckled skin, teeth scraping just behind his ear. He could hardly contain the groan that escaped when he bit down on his lobe, pulling slightly. All he could do was keep grasping at Aziraphale's jacket and buck his hips when a sturdy thigh slotted perfectly between his. He moved his hands down to grab at the arse he had been fantasizing about for a week.

“Fuck, angel.” He moaned, but he was starting to remember where they were and knew, despite every nerve in his body urging him to shut up, they should probably stop. “As much as I would be with you any way you'll have me against this railing, I don't know if your friends would appreciate it.” He meant it, but still continued to grind against the blonde's thigh.

“Yes, right.” Aziraphale managed to gasp out. He pulled away slowly, hands moving to the red head's sinful hips. “Maybe we should,” his eyes, dark and hungry flicked up to Crowley's dark shades, “get dressed?”

“Yeah, dressed. Let's do that.” Crowley said breathlessly. They parted, but Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's hand and led him inside, where the other three were trying their best to be inconspicuous. They practically ran to the bedroom. If Aziraphale didn't care that his friends probably knew what they were doing, Crowley certainly didn't.

The other three all exchanged glances as the bedroom door slammed.

“Wanna get some brunch?” Newt offered, and they all agreed that sounded like an excellent idea. Anathema and Newt got dressed so quickly it may have been a world record and they were off.

***********************************************************************************

Once the door was shut firmly behind them, Aziraphale wasted no time in slipping off Crowley's jacket and pulling the tank top over his head. He ran his hands over the smooth, expanse of Crowley's chest, gently running his thumbs over his nipples, turning them into hard little peaks. He kissed down his neck and began to lave his tongue over one, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger.

Crowley arched his back in to it, fingers tangling in the mess of blond curls. “Fuck angel! Feels good!” He groaned when Aziraphale pulled away.

“You are so gorgeous, my dear. I just want to worship every inch of you, show you what you deserve.” His hands moved to slide down Crowley's sweatpants, but stopped, hands settling on his boney hips. “Is this alright?”

“Yes, please, angel. I need you!” His hands scrambled to pull Aziraphale's t- shirt off which caused him to reach up and grab Crowley's wrists, instead of continuing with the pants. He hesitated for a moment, warring with himself over whether it was worth the risk. Jeremy's words flitting through his head.

_You should really come to the gym with us._

_Another biscuit? Really?_

_You're getting soft, Aziraphale. Maybe cut down on the desserts, yeah?_

Crowley's voice cut through, more clear than those memories. 

“It's okay if you don't want to take your shirt off.” Crowley ran his hands over the plush chest in front of him, feeling the muscle underneath, “Whatever it is you're insecure about, I can promise it won't change how I feel about you. How much I want this.” At some point he had thrown off his sunglasses and Aziraphale could see the want in those honey gold eyes.

“I'm soft.” He said to the floor.

“What's wrong with soft?” He sounded so sure, and earlier he had asked him to trust him. So he decided to.

“Okay.” He whispered and released Crowley's wrists, who was gentle as he pulled the shirt up and over his head, thrown to the side somewhere. 

“Oh angel. You are soft,” His heart dropped, but before he could scramble to find his shirt and put it back on, “so soft and breathtaking” His voice sounded like he was gazing at the most beautiful work of art he had ever seen. Aziraphale's breath caught in his throat. 

“Me?”

“Yes you.” Then Crowley was on him, kissing him like he had on the balcony. Aggressive and hot and possessive. One hand squeezing Aziraphale's hip, the other wrapping around the back of his neck, pulling them flush together. Whatever insecurities were plaguing him before were lost as he felt Crowley's thin flat chest press against him. 

They managed to find their way to the bed, the rest of their clothes shed on the way.

Crowley was laying on the bed on his back, stretched out and Aziraphale couldn't help the way his eyes raked over his body, drinking in every expanse of skin he could. Savoring this moment. 

Now, Aziraphale could honestly say he'd never been a size queen. Figuring he could work with whatever he was presented with, but his mouth still watered when he finally got a look at what Crowley was working with. 

Crowley smiled cheekily at him, “What? Surprised?”

“Where do you hide that monster when you perform?!” He managed to croak out.

“Trade secret!” He winked at him and motioned for Aziraphale to get on the bed with him instead of standing there staring. He was also looking forward to getting his hands (or mouth) on Aziraphale's cock, which, was just as thick as he hoped it would be.

Aziraphale laughed and hopped up, lying next to Crowley on his side.

“I'm clean by the way.” Crowley said quietly, “I get tested regularly and I haven't had any partners in over a year.”

Aziraphale moved his hand to run over Crowley's chest. “Same... So, should we talk about preferences?”

It had been a while, and they were both suddenly nervous, not sure how to navigate this part of it anymore.

“No more than what we need to right in this moment, because right now, if I don't get to suck that beautiful cock of yours I might just explode!” He got up and moved to straddle Aziraphale. “Can I?”

“Yes, please, darling!” He exclaimed, and then Crowley was kissing down his neck, his chest, his stomach, his hips, thighs, before surprising Aziraphale with a slow lick to the underside of his cock from root to tip. “Ooooh, yesssss!” His hand flew down to grip at the firey red hair of the man determine to take him apart. He lightly lapped at the head before he slid down the full length of him, Crowley extremely happy in that moment to have practically no gag reflex. Aziraphale tightened his grip in his hair and keened at the hot, wet tightness of Crowley's throat. He moaned around the expanse and began bobbing up and down in earnest, cheeks hollowed out, guided by the moans coming from above him. He pressed down again, until his nose was pushed into the wirey blonde hair at the base, creating a tight suction with his lips and running his tongue up and down the length in his mouth. Crowley reached down to stroke his own cock in time with the motion and speed in which he was fucking Aziraphale's cock down his throat. He started to feel Aziraphale tense under him and his breaths were becoming faster and sharper so he moved his other hand up to roll his balls along his fingers, which was all it took before Aziraphale was crying out and releasing straight down his throat. Crowley pulled off just enough so he could get some on his tongue, so he could taste his angel, which caused him to reach his own peak, covering his hand and Aziraphale's thigh. He kept sucking lightly until he felt the blonde go lax underneath him.

He pulled off and gave a delicate lick to the tip before settling his cheek down on the other creamy white thigh not covered in his own spend. “How was that?” 

***********************************************************************************

“My dear, that was positively exquisite!” He breathed out, running his hands through Crowley's hair.

“Couldn't agree more! You're delicious angel!” He said before darting his tongue out to lick at the oversensitive flesh of Aziraphale's thigh. 

“Mmm...” He shivered at the touch.

“I could fall asleep right here, on this perfect thigh.” Crowley nuzzled his face up a little higher so he was resting his cheek against his hip, arms wrapping around his thigh.

“I would love that, darling, but we have to get up at some point.”

“Nope, never! Staying right here!” Crowley curled around Aziraphale's leg, not unlike a snake and clung on like he was about to try shaking him off. Which he would never do, because it was easily the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life. So they stayed there a while, clinging to each other, drifting in and out of sleep until there was a hard knock on the bedroom door and a loud female, American voice.

“Hey Az?”

He groaned and nudged Crowley's shoulder, indicating it was time to get up.

“What?” He didn't want to be bothered. He was enjoying this moment of peace with Crowley, he didn't want to face the rest of the day.

“Kat is here...” She informed him through the closed door.

He sighed and sat up as Crowley finally let go of the death grip he had on his leg. He ran his hand over his face.

“Alright, be there in a minute!” He called out to her. He went to stand up and noticed the leg Crowley had been wrapped around was now numb and moving on to pins and needles territory. 

“Sorry 'bout that. How long were we out for?” He said as he went to find his sleep shirt to wipe his hand off on.

“Well, I told her to be here for 1 so probably after 3?”

“Shit, again, sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, dear. That was all rather lovely.” He went over to where Crowley was digging through his bags for clean clothes and pulled him up in to a tight hug. “She can wait.” He kissed him deeply before letting go. “I guess I should figure out how to clean up before heading out there.” 

“S'all good angel. I'll go grab you a wet flannel from the washroom and then we can head out together.” Crowley offered, since he could actually get dressed. 

“Excellent plan!” Aziraphale clasp his hands together and gave a little wiggle as if if Crowley had just come up with the best idea ever.

“No problem!” Crowley pulled on his black, holey socks, tight black jeans and plain black t- shirt.

“Do you own anything that's not black?” Aziraphale mused.

“I have some grey too.” He kissed Aziraphale's cheek before grabbing his sunglasses and shoving them on his face and stalking out to the washroom. He was back a second later with a wet flannel. Instead of passing it to him though, he sank to his knees and started wiping down Aziraphale's thigh where he had made a mess.

“You have no idea what you do to me!” He groaned.

“I have some.” Crowley tilted the glasses down so he could wink up at him, and gave one more wipe. “All good!” 

“Thank you, my dear. I'll be ready in a moment.”

Crowley moved over to sit on the bed and scrolled through his phone while Aziraphale got dressed in a white t- shirt, tan trousers and a grey jumper. When he was done he sank down onto the bed beside Crowley, shoulders hunched and sighed.

Crowley wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “Are you ready, angel?”

“As I'll ever be, I guess.” They shared one more kiss before going out to join the rest in the living room.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The living room was a bustle of activity. Anathema and Newt flitting about setting up the decorations for the party while some sort of spooky music played from speakers Crowley couldn't find. He spotted a blonde woman seated on the couch, bent over the coffee table, fiddling with something. 

_That must be Kat..._

It didn't take long for Aziraphale to confirm his suspicions as he approached her, pulling Crowley along with him. 

“Hello, dear!” He could tell Aziraphale was trying hard to sound pleasant.

The blonde woman jumped up and ran to give Aziraphale a hug he didn't seem to want to reciprocate. Crowley glanced over to the table to see what she had been working on and immediately started to understand what Aziraphale had been so concerned about. 

There were bits of steel wool, two labeled baggies, one with a 'C' the other with a 'B', a lighter, a cylindrical glass 'pipe' and a spoon all on a small white plate. 

Crowley knew what this meant and had a feeling Aziraphale did too.

“Zira!!!” She yelled out as she hugged him, “I've missed you! I have so much to tell you! You would not believe what happened with Todd!” She let him go and Crowley could see Aziraphale visibly relax as she went back to what she was working on. She hadn't even noticed the tall red head standing next to him.

“I can hardly wait,” He said stiffly, “but first, I'd like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Crowley. He's moving in tomorrow.” He waved a hand between them, “And Crowley, this is my sister Kat.” 

She looked up, she seemed surprised, but before Crowley could say anything, she was hugging him too. He gave her a small hug back and couldn't help noticing just how skinny she was. Crowley had no right to judge, all things considered, but this really didn't seem healthy. She was literally skin and bones.

“Yay! Now I have two big brothers to look out for me!” As she moved away from him, he noticed her sweater was stained and hanging off of her and her leggings were full of holes. Her hair and makeup looked unusually good though.

_Don't judge. You know what it's like. Priorities get weird. Crowley thought to himself._

“Sure.” He said flatly. 

Aziraphale walked over to join her on the couch. Crowley remained standing and looked to Anathema and Newt, who were now quietly minding their own business in the kitchen. He decided to join them and let Aziraphale talk to his sister for a bit.

“So uh, you all know what's going on there, yeah?” He asked quietly once he was close enough.

“Yeah.” Newt nodded, “None of us are exactly comfortably with her doing it here, but Az is afraid if he tells her she can't she'll stop coming back, which he thinks means he can't help her.”

“It's terrible logic, but we can all get a little blind when it comes to family.” Anathema added.

“It's enabling is what it is!” Crowley was trying to keep his voice down, but it was getting difficult. He couldn't understand why Aziraphale would keep her around at all, especially after everything he told him earlier. He had to remind himself that not everyone could just cut their entire family out of their lives without a care in the world. 

“We know! But it's useless to talk to him about it! At least after tonight, I won't have to deal with it.” Anathema turned to Crowley, no longer focusing on the cider she was brewing on the stove top, “It's really hard when she's here. Last time she almost burned the whole place down. She got way too high, on who knows what and then tried to hot knife at the stove, ended up starting a fire. Thankfully, we were all downstairs and smelled the smoke so we were able to put it out in time. Needed a new stove though.” 

“She didn't even need to hot knife! We have papers, a bong, pipes but she chose to use the stove.” Newt shook his head. “I already took a pill for today so I won't be drinking. She just stresses me out.”

Anathema reached over and rubbed his shoulder. “I know babe, it's alright.”

Just then, they could hear the conversation from the couch get significantly louder.

“What's the big fucking deal? I'll just blow it out the window!”

“That's the problem, Kat! You'll forget once you get started! I'm not judging you, I just need you to go outside if you're going to do... That!” Aziraphale gestured toward to paraphernalia on the table.

“You can say it! It's crack! I'm smoking crack! I'm your stupid, crack- addicted sister and you're embarrassed of me!” Kat was screaming at this point. Crowley noticed though that although she seemed upset, she was very obviously not crying.

“If I was embarrassed of you I wouldn't have let you come stay this weekend now would I? All my friends are going to be here! My boyfriend is here! I am very obviously not embarrassed of you! It's just rude to subject us to inhaling what you are smoking since it's not something the rest of us do!” He was exasperated. Crowley had never heard him talk so sternly before. It was a little terrifying.

“Fine!” Kat collected up her pipe and jacket and went out on to the balcony. Making sure to slam the door behind her. Crowley decided it was good time to join Aziraphale on the couch.

He was slouched forwards, staring at the mess on the table when Crowley sat beside him, placing a hand on his knee.

“You alright, angel?”

“I honestly don't know...” He looked to Crowley and he could see the sadness there.

“I know it's not much help, but when she's done out there she'll probably be in a much better mood.” He offered.

All Aziraphale could do was sigh and lean against Crowley, who wrapped him up in a protective hug. 

“Why don't we watch a Halloween movie? Something spooky to get our minds off all this? Get us in the mood for the party tonight?” Crowley said into the top of Aziraphale's head. He would never get tired of the scent of him.

“What did you have in mind?” Aziraphale pulled away a bit, a slightly puzzled look on his face.

“Do you have a DVD player?”

“Yes...” 

“Good! I brought some of my favourites!” A huge grin spread across Crowley's face as he got up to rummage through one of his bags in Aziraphale's room. He came back with three DVDs in his hands and laid them out on a bare part of the coffee table for Aziraphale to pick.

“Wasn't sure if you liked horror movies, so I brought a varied selection.” He looked down at his choices, Hocus Pocus, Trick 'R Treat and Ginger Snaps. Anathema came over to peer at them as well. 

“Oh! Ginger Snaps! I love that one!” She declared.

“Is it scary?” Aziraphale was a little more tentative.

“Depends on your definition of scary.” Crowley shrugged.

“Fine, but if I have nightmares tonight it's your fault!” Aziraphale pointed an accusatory finger at Crowley.

“Don't worry, angel. I'll protect you!” He said with a sly smile and got up to pop the movie in.

By the time it was over, Aziraphale was clinging to him, one hand half covering his eyes.

“That was extremely scary! You fiend!” He got up and gave Crowley a playful swat to his arm as the credits started up.

Crowley could just laugh, “It's not that bad! Plus, I can't argue with having you all snuggled up to me!” He said as he pulled Aziraphale to him again.

Aziraphale managed to wriggle himself away before getting up with a big sigh, “I should probably check on Kat. She's been out there a while.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

“No no, it might be better if I go alone. And I imagine you need to get started on your costume!”

Crowley joined him in standing and gave him a soft kiss, “Alright, but if you need me, send me a text and I'll be right out!”

Aziraphale nodded and grabbed his jacket and slipped on his shoes, and went to join Kat on the balcony.

Crowley stalked off to the bedroom to get started on his costume. Knowing how much Aziraphale would appreciate it and thankful for the extra time, since it would take a while.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Kat was staring at her phone, smoking a cigarette when Aziraphale joined her. She appeared to have calmed down, so he figured he would be welcome. She was in his usual chair, but he pushed that aside and took the other one. Resigning himself to what was likely to be a difficult conversation.

“I'm sorry about earlier. I never want you to feel like you're not wanted here.” He said softly.

“I know. It's fine. I get it.” She replied without looking up from her phone.

“The party should be fun though!” He was desperately trying to turn the conversation to happier topics.

“I don't have a costume.” She still didn't look up.

“I'm sure Crowley would be able to help you with something? He's very good with make up!” Aziraphale felt a little guilty over offering up Crowley's services without asking him first, so he pulled out his phone to send him a quick text.

**Aziraphale: Hello darling, everything is alright out here, but I was wondering if you would be able to help Kat with a costume of some kind? She doesn't have anything to work with, really.**

**Crowley: Sure thing! I think I can pull something together!**

**Aziraphale: Thank you! I really appreciate it! <3**

“He's more than happy to help!” He put his phone away and lit up a smoke, turning back to Kat. He noticed she had put her phone down now and had fixed him with a stern look.

“Who is he, anyway?”

“Oh, well, he's Crowley! We met at work and he's very sweet! We've been seeing each other about a week now!” He said, happy to talk about the person who was bringing him so much joy.

“That seems fast...” He could tell she wasn't sure about all this, which was a bit rich coming from her.

“When it feels right, it feels right! And surely, you're one to talk? You moved in with Todd right away, even though mom had just put down first and last on a flat for you after things fell apart with Chris!” He knew he was coming across much harsher than he intended, but he couldn't believe she, of all people, was judging his choices. Thankfully, she had the good graces to recognize she wasn't being fair.

“Alright! Alright! I get it! Just be careful, he seems... shifty... And why does he wear sunglasses inside?” 

“Medical condition, he's light sensitive.” If Crowley wanted to explain it to her at some point in the future, that was up to him. It wasn't Aziraphale's information to share. “You must be cold though, you've been out here almost two hours. Let's go inside and have some cider, hmm?”

“Fine, but if Anathema gives me any shit, I will not hesitate to fuck her up!” Kat laughs at that, but Aziraphale knows better than to believe it's only a joke.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Everything was pretty much done, and Crowley was feeling quite proud of himself! He even got himself some cheap contact lenses and a temporary tattoo just to complete the look.

He opened the bedroom door a crack and called out to Aziraphale, quickly closing the door before he could get there. He stood back and watched as Aziraphale opened the door and shut it quickly behind him. His eyes were wide as the travelled over his body, taking everything in. This was why he wanted him to see first, before anyone else. It was one of his favourite costumes, and one he had done in the past, but it was still always a good time. 

Aziraphale could only stand there staring. Not even sure where to settle his eyes. The curly black wig, chunky, white pears, black, glittery corset, fishnet stalkings, bold make up.

“What do you think, angel? Do you wanna touch-a touch-a touch me?” He said with a smirk, raising one eyebrow.

“You make me want to be positively dirty, my dear!” He said finally stepping forward, running a finger down the lacing of the corset. Every time he was around Crowley when he was wearing heels he felt so tiny. Probably the only time he ever felt small in his life, and he loved it!

“I wasn't sure if you'd seen Rocky Horror or not, so it was a bit of a risk, but also the only costume I could pull together on such short notice.”

“If I wasn't so concerned about ruining your makeup I can think of several things I'd like to do to you right now!” Aziraphale breathed out, gripping the slim hips of the living embodiment of temptation in front of him.

“And Satan, I would let you! But! You need to get in to your costume and I need to help your sister with hers.” Crowley was trying to be the voice of reason here, but it was always difficult with his angel.

“Yes, quite right.” Aziraphale pulled away reluctantly, sighing and going over to his closet to pull out his costume.

“What are you being, anyways? You haven't told me.”

“I was having trouble thinking of one, to be honest, but then I thought about your nickname for me and decided to go with that. Anathema helped with the robes...” Aziraphale had started pulling at the hem of his jumper after throwing the garment bag containing his costume on the bed. He couldn't help but feel silly for coming up with such a simple costume.

“I can't wait to see it! I'm sure you'll be the most beautiful angel anyone has ever seen!” He gave Aziraphale a quick kiss, before heading out back to the living room.

Kat was back on the couch, this time rolling a joint, which Crowley was far more in favour of.

“Uh, hey! Aziraphale mentioned you needed help with your costume?” He offered, figuring the loud clicking of his heels on the floor should have caught her attention, but she was far more consumed with her task. She did look up at the sound of his voice though.

“Yes, please! He wasn't wrong, you are good with makeup! Damn!” She had way too much energy for him right now, but he could manage.

“Thanks! Years of practice! So, what do we have to work with?” As he asked, she gestured to the large bag sitting by the door. He went to get it for her so she could finish rolling. He brought it over and sat next to her on the couch, placing the heavy bag between them on the floor. 

“You can go through it if you want. Nothing to hide. See if there's anything that inspires you!”

He bent over and undid the pull string on the top. He dug through and after setting a few promising things aside he hit the jackpot! A frilly, short white dress.

“Have you ever seen Bride of Chucky?” He was actually getting pretty excited over doing a Tiffany Valentine cosplay. 

“I think so? Maybe?” She looked confused, so he brought up a picture on his phone to show her. “Ooooh! Yes! I mean, I haven't seen the movie, but that looks hot! I don't have a leather jacket though...”

“You can borrow mine tonight. Thankfully, my costume works with or without it.”

“Awesome! Thank you so much!” She throws her entire body into the hug she gives him.

“No problem!” He looks over her shoulder and sees Aziraphale enter the living room, looking exactly like an angel. Long white robes held together with a single, gold broach, plastic, glittery halo and feathery white wings. Crowley lets go of Kat and walks over to him, lifting him off his feet and spinning them around. “I knew it would be perfect! The most gorgeous angel anyone has ever seen!”

“Oh shush, you.” He tries to scold, but the shy grin and blush travelling up to the tips of his ears give him away. “And is this safe? In those heels?”

Crowley sets him down, “Absolutely! You've seen what I can do in these heels!”

“You're right, my mistake dear.”

They stood there just enjoying holding each other and smiling when the moment was disrupted by a loud squeal coming from the direction of Anathema's room.

“Oh my god! You both look amazing! This is going to be the best Samhain party I've ever thrown!” She runs over to them and gives them both quick hugs. 

“And what are you supposed to be?” Crowley looked over her costume once she had stepped back. She seemed to be dripping in dirty, grey, white and black scarves and skirts, her dark hair down and teased out. Her normally tan skin, was painted much paler on her face, dark circles around her eyes.

“I'm a ghost!” She said, like it should be obvious. 

“Right, of course.” Crowley smiled, he like her creativity. “Where's Newt?”

“Finishing up, he'll be out in a sec! Let's get some drinks!” She bounded into the kitchen to start pouring.

Crowley turned back to Aziraphale, “Your sister's costume is pretty easy, shouldn't take me long.”

“Thank you again, my dear.”

“Anytime, angel.” In favour of not smearing red lipstick all over his face, he just gave him a hug and turned to the living room, “Oi! Kat! Get in your costume! We'll do the makeup once you're dressed!”

It took a while to get her focused and sat down long enough to finish with the hair and makeup, but in the end, it didn't turn out half bad. Crowley was even a little proud of what he managed to accomplish. He wasn't surprised to find his jacket fit her better than it should have. She filled him in on far more information than he wanted about her life, but figured she probably just needed someone to listen, so he indulged her that. It was difficult, considering she would frequently lose her train of thought or not be able to finish sentences, but he remained patient. Occasionally he would offer a word she seemed to be forgetting, or remind her what she was talking about. 

By the time they were finished, most of the guests had arrived.

He actually was enjoying himself, indulging in the nibbles Anathema had prepared and taking in everyone's costumes. He really enjoyed Newt's Newt costume, which was more adorable then he was sure he had intended. Gabriel had shown up in a suit, which didn't surprise Crowley in the slightest. 

The young boy he had met at the Whale earlier in the week showed up with his friends, who Aziraphale was kind enough to re- introduce him too. They had come as ninja turtles, but there was one missing. Soon enough, the missing turtle showed up with their date.

Crowley had been dancing with Aziraphale in the living room, where they had cleared enough space by moving the coffee table to the side when he noticed them. His breath caught in his throat and he felt dizzy. Aziraphale noticed, and turned to see what Crowley was staring at.

He saw his friend Pepper, dressed as a ninja turtle with who he presumed was their date. A small, rough looking person with messy black hair. He wasn't sure if this was a costume or that they always looked like, but led Crowley over to make introductions.

“Pepper! Love the costume! Which turtle are you supposed to be?”

“Raphael of course! Can't you tell by the sai?!” 

“I am sorry to say I could not, but that's no fault of the costume! More my lack of knowledge on the topic, I assure you.”

“Fair enough! And this is my partner Beez!” Pepper turned slightly and gestured to the person next to her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Beez!” He held out his hand to shake theirs, but noticed they had engaged in a staring contest with Crowley. “And this is my boyfriend, Crowley.”

“Ah, the traitor, Crowley.” They snarled, giving Crowley a death glare.

“S'not a nice word.” Crowley countered sheepishly.

“But accurate, wouldn't you say?”

“Depends...” 

“Do you two know each other?” Aziraphale interrupted, trying to make sense of the awkward interaction.

“We grew up together, didn't we, Tony?” They said the name pointedly, as if to remind Crowley who he was.

“Could say that.” He mumbled.

“You haven't told him, have you?!” Thye barked out, “Onze a coward, alwayz a coward, huh?”

Aziraphale looked around and noticed everyone was watching them. He grabbed their jackets, handing Crowley his, “I think we'll step out for a moment. It's good to see you Pepper.” He added before shuffling himself and Crowley on to the balcony. 

Once they were seated and both with a cigarette, Crowley seemed to relax a little.

“Do you want to talk about what just happened?” Aziraphale said gently.

“Yes and no.” He paused, taking a long drag before exhaling, “We should talk about it, you should know, but they were the last person I was ever expecting to see again.”

“Are they an ex of yours?” Aziraphale did not want that to be the case. He was not ready to deal with an angry ex.

“Again, yes and no. We had a complicated relationship. We met at school when we were 14 and our dad's retired around the same time in London so we were able to stay friends. We both took off when we were 18 and got ourselves a shitty one bedroom flat. I took the couch. We had a bit of an... arrangement.” He shuddered as he put out his smoke and started up another one. “I guess friends with benefits? We still fucked around with other people, sometimes together, but it was always just supposed to be fun. But then my stupidity got in the way and I was having a really rough couple of weeks. I guess one of the doctors would have said it was a 'depressive episode where my suicidal ideation couldn't be controlled.' Load of bollocks as far as I'm concerned. Everything was just too much to deal with. Figured it would be easier for everyone if I just wasn't... around anymore. So I took matters into my own hands...” Crowley was staring at his hands, ripping away at his cuticles, not stopping when his thumb started bleeding. Aziraphale wanted to reach over and still those hands in his, but wasn't sure it would be welcome. “Beez found me, stayed at the hospital with me while I recovered. Didn't take long, I was out in 48 hours once I convinced them I was no longer a danger to myself. But I knew it was hard on them. No one wants to find their best friend like that. So the day after I got home, Beez was at work and I packed up what little I had and left. Haven't seen or spoken to them in about seven years...”

“I'm so sorry, my dear.” Aziraphale filed all that information away for later, knowing that this was something to discuss in more detail another time. “What happened after you left?”

“Didn't have anywhere to go, so I spent a couple months on the street, a shelter when there was room. Lost my job, couldn't get another one until I had an address, so I did what I could to make some money, got the flat I'm in now. Kept drifting from job to job, just trying to stay above water, you know?” He glanced at Aziraphale for a moment before going back to his hands. “Just been keeping to myself. Been keeping everyone at arms length. Didn't want to hurt anyone else. I've felt guilty about what happened every day since I left. I don't blame them for hating me.” He sighed and leaned back in the chair, he took off the wig and placed it on one his knees and went to bring his hands towards the back of his neck, but Aziraphale did step in then. He leaned over and grabbed his hands, warming them with his own.

“It sounds like a terrible situation to be in. I can understand why you would be so stressed to see them again.” He ran his thumbs in soothing circles over Crowley's knuckles. “Did you miss them?”

“All the time. They were the only real friend I ever had until I met you.” He whispered.

“Then maybe this is a sign. A fresh start for the both of you.” Aziraphale offered.

“Yeah, maybe. I don't want things to be awkward if they're dating one of your friends.”

“That's the least of my worries, dear. I just want you to be happy.” He gave Crowley a small smile. “Do you think you're ready to head back in? We can avoid them if that would be easier for you?”

“I might not talk directly to them, but I think we can be civil.”

“Excellent! Let's head in then! Anathema made these delicious mini pumpkin pies I am dying to try!” 

“Sounds good, angel.” How could he say no to someone so excited over little pumpkin pies. He really did adore this man. His enthusiasm for life, his kindness, his passion. As long as he was with Aziraphale he knew everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the smut, there was really only one small plot moment. Aziraphale remembering his ex being rude about his weight, but Crowley shows him soft can be sexy.


End file.
